


Perfect Paradise [Tearing at the Seams]

by andachippedcup



Series: andachippedcup's Olicity Summer Sizzle Fics [10]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Civil War AU, Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Historical, I'm going to type it again for the crowd in the back EVENTUAL HAPPY ENDING I SWEAR YOU GUYS, Pearl Harbor au, Pregnancy, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Star-crossed, Titanic AU, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2020-10-16 23:24:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 97,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20611100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andachippedcup/pseuds/andachippedcup
Summary: Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak are star-crossed soulmates. In every life, in every time, they find each other and fall madly in love with each other. And in every life, in every time, one will make a final request of the other that their lover will, for whatever reason, be unable to fulfill. Every time a last wish goes unfulfilled, the soulmates are doomed in their present life and are forced to endure another lifetime of love cut short. Until the two lovers are both able to successfully fulfill their last wishes to each other, the cycle of love and loss repeats itself over and over again in an endless circle that only Oliver and Felicity can break - if they are strong enough to persevere in the name of love.[Olicity Summer Sizzle - 'Soulmates AU' prompt]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys. Buckle up. This is going to be a rough read. But for all the pain and suffering you're about to endure with this story I PROMISE you that we get a happy ending. Really. Seriously. And I HOPE that it makes up for the pain inflicted along the way. There's a lot of death and heartache but if you can muscle through it, there's some real joy at the end.
> 
> Big thanks to Calli & Elley for all their help with this!

\-----

September 1773  
Boston in the American Colony of Massachusetts

\-----

When he stepped off the bustling cobblestone street and through the door of the two story brick townhome that he had only called home for a little over a year, Oliver could not help but grin. Felicity had not heard him come in; he knew, because he could hear her speaking in quiet tones from inside the library.

As he drew nearer to the open door, he realized she was not carrying on a conversation as he had initially thought; instead, she was reading a book out loud. Carrying forward on tiptoe, he stole upon the doorway and held fast there, watching in silence and tender affection. His darling wife was coiled upon the reading chair, a leather bound tome spread upon the armrest as she read, one finger racing across the pages to keep her place. Her other hand rested neatly upon the prominent curve of her stomach, now far too large to hide that she was indeed, in the family way. 

As he stood watching her, utterly transfixed, she suddenly looked up from her literary endeavors, and her mouth twisted into a beatific smile.

“Hello, Husband,” she greeted him, her nose crinkling with delight as she set her book aside and moved as though to rise and meet him. His presence thus detected, Oliver strode forward and knelt in front of her before she could rise. He pressed a soft, quick kiss of greeting to her lips, then he laid his hands tenderly on her swollen belly. 

“Hello my darling Wife,” he whispered, his eyes on hers before he turned his gaze to her middle. “And hello to you too, little duckling,” he crooned before he kissed her stomach once with the utmost of affection. His wife and child appropriately acknowledged, Oliver seated himself on the floor at Felicity’s feet, sighing contentedly. 

“We did not expect you so soon,” Felicity murmured to him and while her eyes danced with joy, he knew her well enough to see the concern within them too. 

“True; I was to be at the docks reviewing the accounts with my father today. But a morning filled with such matters was more than ample by my measure. And I missed you, Madam,” he teased her, only to lean in for another kiss. 

She stopped him up short by blocking the kiss with her hand so she could stare at him with a critical frown. 

“Twaddle. You are avoiding something, Oliver. You always are whenever you flee from work and use me as an excuse,” she chastised him lightly and he grimaced in the face of her accurate assessment. 

He ought to know better than to try such hijinks with his wife; she called him on it every dern time. 

“I am glad to see you, Oliver. But I would be gladder still to know what troubles you,” she confessed as she ran a hand lightly through his hair, her eyes holding his tenderly. And he could feel his resolve to keep his woes hidden from her crumbling in the face of her compassionate inquiries. 

It was pointless. He could try to keep secret from her the many things that troubled him. But eventually, the truth always came out. It simply could not be helped. 

“In truth?” 

“Always,” she answered him with a nod of encouragement and he sighed heavily. 

“My father informed me today of his wish for me to take over the business for him. Were I to do so, our family would want for nothing. Our income would be assured - father says there will always be need of ships. And we have many to our name,” he explained and Felicity nodded along, her expression one of focused concentration. 

“And yet…?” Felicity prodded, leading him gently to the problem. 

“And yet… Felicity, you know me. I am not a man equal to the task. I come from a good family and I was educated but I have no mind for numbers and sums. Were I to accept this… I fear I would make a monstrous mess of it all.” 

“Claptrap. You are a man of many talents, husband. And chief among those talents is your ability to present yourself as less than you are. Allow me to dissuade you of that belief; you, my Husband, are brilliant. I see it every day. I know you are capable of whatever feat you set yourself to. If you decide to undertake this venture, I am certain you will flourish. You need only see yourself as I see you. Then you will never again doubt yourself.” Her encouragement washed over him like a gentle, warm wave and Oliver took a minute to steady himself in the face of such praise and unwavering support. 

“And how do you see me, Wife?”

Perhaps it was self serving but he did wish ever so terribly to see the world through her eyes. And she had piqued his interest with this line of thinking. He was now quite keen to know how she saw him. It was something he had wondered overlong. Why would such an exquisite creature take a flawed man such as him for a husband? 

“I see a devoted, loving husband. I see a man who strives to be a dutiful son and brother. I see a mind as sharp as a bayonet. And I see the man that I love above all others. A man who has always sought to love and protect me. I see a man who will be a remarkable father. A man who will provide for his family. In short, I see a good man. Look more closely, Husband, and I think you shall see him too.”

Her words soothed his anxieties and self doubt while in equal measure reaffirming his deep rooted love of her. Never in his life had he imagined the greatest treasure he would find would be the woman he married. And yet, such was the case and for that, he was ever grateful.

“Whatever did I do to merit a creature as delightful as you agreeing to be my bride?” He queried appreciatively and Felicity beamed at him. 

“Delightful, am I?” 

“Indeed,” he assured her, rising to stand and offering her his hand. She hesitated for only a moment and then slid her fingers through his. He helped her to ease her bulk from the chair, delighting in the way her corset and stays tried and yet failed to hide from view the nature of her condition. Even wearing an apron, as the ladies often did to hide their pregnancies from view, there was no disguising Felicity’s approaching motherhood. Once on her feet, she flitted to the bookshelf and returned her reading material to it before she rounded on her husband once more. 

“Your mother came to call earlier today,” she informed him, attempting to be delicate and conversational, though he could easily read the tension in her body. 

“And was she kind to you?”

“I suppose so,” Felicity nodded faintly, wringing her hands unthinkingly. “It seems your mother has arranged additional social engagements for her and myself this week.” 

Oliver gnashed his teeth at this, plainly irritated by the news. 

“I’ll speak with her,” Oliver cut in but Felicity made a quiet noise of complaint and shook her head as she continued to prowl the room with a nervous energy. 

“No, there is no need for that. I simply need to summon a bit of courage. Or perhaps lend some from my husband,” she smiled at him at that, then worried at her lip for a moment before elaborating. “Your mother expressed her expectation that I follow the social calendar she has outlined for me to the letter. And it is rather… extensive,” Felicity explained delicately and Oliver could sense her growing distress. “She and I are to have tea together tomorrow, and tea with your mother’s friends the next day. You and I are to attend a dinner party at the Governor’s in four days time. And then there’s the sewing group your mother has arranged for me to be a part of as well as a Ladies Committee of some sort...” Felicity huffed a sigh, completely overwhelmed. 

“Felicity, you need not fret; it is no great trouble if you wish not to go. You know I have no taste for society life.” 

“Oliver, the issue is not that I do not wish to go - I know I must. There are expectations as the wife of a successful merchant in this town. Not to mention the importance of making allies during these troubling political times."

"Our troubles might only grow if I take on the business. Merchants lost more than ships when the tea tax came down. We might make targets of ourselves." It was this fear, as well as his fear of his own perceived incompetence, that gave him pause in regards to following his father into running the family business. He did not wish to do anything that might endanger Felicity, or their coming child. 

"But our ability to improve matters in our city might also grow. We would be better positioned to do good for our home."

She was right. And Oliver could not deny that he desperately wished to see the colonies become a better place in which to raise their family. 

"I know all of this to be true - and so do you, so do not try to tell me to the contrary," ahe continued, ever certain. "The problem is that if I do go, I just know I shall make a horrible fool of myself and then I will be a terrible embarrassment to you and not the source of support you shall need. I am not the partner you need in this endeavor. Your mother knows I am not as well versed in these matters as she is and she seems determined to prepare me for what we shall face. I just do not know that I am equal to the task.” 

And it was true; Felicity, though beautiful and brilliant, had not received the pampered upbringing of the upper class; where Oliver’s sister had been schooled in etiquette and ‘the art of being a lady’, Felicity had learned practical skills and how to run a household. But in marrying Oliver, she had walked into a house run by an extremely capable and trusted staff who scarcely needed the help of the mistress of the home. Other than managing the house’s financials and giving the staff permission to make purchases and the like, Felicity did not need to lift a finger in the home. They had a cook and maids, and their horses were stabled at the local livery, able to be fetched by the driver at a moment’s notice. And once their child was born, they would add a nursemaid to the staff. They owned no livestock and Oliver had no taste for entertaining, so lavish party planning was not a part of Felicity’s day. 

Instead, she was free to read - a pastime she thoroughly enjoyed and which Oliver encouraged by purchasing her countless books - and to tinker, which she did frequently, often designing odds and ends that the staff (and even Oliver) found extremely useful. And when she did find herself thrown into social situations where she had to rub elbows with the other wealthy elite, Felicity often found her nerves ran away with her tongue before her mind could put a stop to it. Her nervous rambles had enchanted Oliver from the onset but to most of the society’s noteworthy names, it was a source of at best, amusement, and at worst, derision. 

Nothing about Felicity was in accordance with the norms Oliver’s mother had been raised in and come to expect from a lady of breeding. But Felicity’s quirks were part of what made Oliver love her so much. 

Oliver had done all in his power to see to it that Felicity wanted for nothing. But this also left her days open for his mother to intervene and try to dictate her daughter in law’s life. Oliver’s mother had been furious when the two had married and the fire behind that rage had not died down with time. If anything, the older woman was a quietly smoldering inferno waiting to happen. It seemed as though her plan was to place Felicity in as many social situations as possible to force her to mold herself into the kind of woman ‘Oliver should have married’, as she liked to put it. And if Felicity broke rather than allow herself to be molded? 

Well, all the better - in his mother’s mind. 

But Felicity was also right to make mention of how important such social connections could be; the shipping business was ever fraught as the colonies continued to revolt against the British Crown and her many taxes. Just this very year the Boston harbor had been aflood with tea after the latest tax had come down, inciting the rage and wrath of many. The only way the family business stayed afloat so long - figuratively and literally - was by his father and mother's careful social networking. And if Oliver was to take over, this was surely expected to continue. He could see plainly now that as his father was grooming him to inherit the business so too was his mother forcibly preparing Felicity for such a day.

How nice of both of them to give the young couple no say in the matter.

“Felicity, you have never been an embarrassment to me - and you never will be. Each day I find I must reassure myself that my life is not a dream. I never thought I should find a love as true and pure as you. And yet here you are, my sworn wife and now, the mother of my child. I may be a fool, but I am not so foolish as to look a gift horse in the mouth.” 

He crossed the room and put a stop to her anxious pacing, steadying her with a hand on either hip as he held her close. 

“You are everything I could ever ask for and more. Your support is all I need. It is perfect and life giving. I love you, all of you. If you wish to go, go. But if you would rather stay home, you have my blessing to do so. But do not stay out of fear of embarrassing me. You could not. I love all that you are, exactly as you are. And anyone who does not share that opinion is no soul I wish to acquaint myself with.”

His assurances were sealed with a tender kiss which they both lost themselves in. They both felt bolstered by the tangible reminder of the other’s profound love and it was enough to ease both of their respective fears. 

In one swift motion, Oliver swept her into his arms, mindful of her stomach and the precious cargo she carried. Holding her aloft thusly, he grinned at her and carried her from the library and up the stairs to their bedroom, that he might further reassure her of his love and devotion.

\-----

A scant week later, Oliver was once more occupied with invoices for the family business; with Felicity’s blessing and encouragement, he had agreed to take it over from his father. Truthfully, he still felt out of his depth, but when he found a particularly troubling sum or situation, he found that taking it home to his wife yielded results. Felicity had a mind for numbers and she was a rather brilliant strategist in her own right, so her input inevitably helped him solve whatever the issue might be.

It was too soon to feel confident in his decision to take over. But he at least wasn’t regretting it. And that was rather impressive, all things considered. 

As he wrote out a bill of sale for the most recent transaction (a load of cargo consisting of wine brought over from France and Whiskey from Scotland), the sound of footfalls outside his office drew his attention. The office door flung open without a knock and his apprentice, Roy, burst in.

"Master Queen! Mistress Felicity has called for the midwife, sir!"

Oliver felt his heart stop for a moment and then it thundered in his ears, drowning out all other sound. Felicity had summoned the midwife. _ It was time. _Their child was on its way. 

He flew to his feet in a flurry of papers and knocked over an inkwell as he sprinted for the door, in his haste forgetting his coat and his hat. 

“How long ago?” 

“The driver said ‘twas quarter till two when he was told to fetch you.” 

Oliver grabbed his pocket watch, his nostrils flaring as he caught sight of the time. It was already half past three. If the driver had only been summoned forty five minutes past, then Felicity had likely called for the midwife an hour or more ago. 

For all he knew, his child could already have been born in the time it had taken them to notify him. 

“Tend to the rest of the day’s matters and lock up behind yourself, Roy.” 

Ordinarily, he would not have left his young charge alone thusly, but in light of his wife’s predicament, getting to her side was far more urgent than anything at work. He’d signed the bill of sale; surely Roy could handle the rest. 

“I will, Sir!” 

Clapping Roy on the back appreciatively, Oliver hastened to the street, where the driver and carriage awaited his arrival. He sprang inside without a moment to lose and the driver guided the horse forward without delay. Fortunately, the young couple lived nearby in the heart of the city, that Oliver might be close at hand for business matters at the harbor. Boston was a thriving new city and constantly busy. Oliver had always considered that a positive thing until today, when he wanted nothing more than to run down every other person and carriage that slowed them down. 

Eventually, they slowed before the familiar brick townhome and, without waiting for the carriage to come to a complete stop, Oliver jumped forth from it and raced up the steps to his home. As he wrenched the door open, he found the entryway already bustling with activity. The house staff were bringing fresh linens up the staircase and the telltale smell of tobacco indicated that his parents had apparently arrived before him. Sure enough, he found his father in the parlor, lazily puffing at his pipe.

“I say, did you run here, son?” Robert remarked in surprise, looking his son up and down in shock. Oliver glanced around uncertainly, his heart still racing.

“I took the carriage - where is Felicity?”

“In the bedroom above stairs, with the midwife. And your mother.” 

Oliver’s eyes widened and he spun to run up the staircase when his father’s hand landed on his arm, drawing up short.

“Hold, son. That room? ‘Tis for the women for the now. Your place is down here until they call for you. Until then? No news is good news.” 

Oliver pulled his arm free of his father’s grasp, an appalled expression on his face.

“My place is at my wife’s side, as her place is at mine,” he countered brusquely and without delay, he took to the stairs. As he did so, he heard the sounds of Felicity crying out in pain and an even greater urgency entered his stride. 

When he swept into the familiar room, he found his mother sitting primly in a chair at the head of the bed, a good two foot distance between her and her daughter in law. His sister Thea was seated at Felicity’s other side and held her hand as she tried to comfort her. But Oliver could tell with a simple look that Thea herself was alarmed by the entire process. And no small wonder why - his younger sister was newly engaged and likely, was utterly overwhelmed with seeing what hardship waited in her future. 

All parties turned to look at him upon his entrance; his mother wore a shocked expression of anger, Thea one of relief, the midwife one of surprise, and Felicity, one of joy.

“Oliver, we have not summoned you yet,” his mother remarked in a reproving tone and Oliver shot her a look that would have withered a lesser woman. 

“This is my house and she is my wife. I need no summons, save hers.” Turning his attention to Felicity, he gave a quick acknowledgement to his sister, who happily gave up her seat to him. Oliver seated himself beside his wife, who was smiling happily at him through a sheen of sweat as she breathed heavily.

“So our duckling has decided to emerge?” He teased her softly and she chuckled before nodding as she panted. 

“So it would seem. Though not without drawing out the ‘emerging’ part of the process,” she explained, groaning as her body seemed to tighten with pain. Her hand sought and found his and she squeezed it tightly as another round of discomfort engulfed her. He did his best to talk her through it, though in truth he was terrified.

He hadn’t truly fathomed how agonizing the entire experience of childbirth was until he was presented with the evidence of it here before him. No wonder his younger sister was struggling to be supportive - in time, be it months or perhaps a year, this struggle would likely be hers. He did not envy her that experience. 

Despite his mother’s clear dissatisfaction, Oliver remained by his wife’s side, quietly encouraging her as her labor drug on and on. His mother commented that they would probably be waiting around all night and departed to ‘freshen up’, which Oliver took to mean ‘get a drink’. Taking Thea with her when she vacated the room, his mother’s departure left Oliver and Felicity alone with the midwife. But as Felicity’s body coiled with greater and greater tension, Oliver sensed that they were getting close. It was not long after his mother’s departure that the intensity of Felicity’s cries increased and the midwife quickly indicated to Oliver that the time had come.

“Breathe, Felicity. You can do this. I believe in you!” His words of encouragement felt insipid and unequal to the gargantuan task before her. But true to form, his darling wife rose to the occasion and as she gave her loudest cry of pain, her entire body seemed to tense and contract. And then, Oliver felt as though the world shrank to a pinprick as one of the singularly most magical sounds punctuated the room: a high pitched, piercing wail.

Felicity rested her head against his shoulder wearily, though her eyes were trained hungrily on the tiny form of their newborn child, being hurriedly tended to by the midwife. Oliver pressed a delighted kiss to Felicity’s forehead, grinning like a fool as the midwife stepped closer to them both and passed the tiny bundle of their child into Felicity’s arms. 

“You have a daughter; and quite a poplolly at that. She’s a fine one,” the midwife announced and Oliver felt his heart swell to hitherto unheard of sizes. 

He was a father. He had a daughter. Turning his gaze upon Felicity, he found her watching their daughter with complete awe and it was all he could do not to kiss her in that moment, he was so proud of her. She’d done beautifully, his Felicity. 

“Well done my love,” he sighed against her ear as he stared down at their daughter. He felt Felicity stir beside him and smile before she pressed a joyous kiss against his lips. 

“Well done the both of us,” she corrected him in a happy, albeit weary, tone. 

“I am glad ‘tis done. I felt powerless to help you and I so hated to see you in pain,” Oliver admitted and his wife chortled in response.

“I confess, I was not fond of it myself.” 

“M’fraid you aren’t done, m’lady,” the midwife interrupted and the young couple turned to look at her in surprise. 

“Whatever do you mean?” Felicity queried, her eyes widening in alarm. 

“The worst ‘tis over, surely, but ye’ve still a bit more work to do before the birthing is at an end. Ye have the afterbirth still to go,” 

Felicity looked to Oliver in mild horror and he felt himself scrambling as he sought to reassure her but no words seemed to come. 

“Give him the babe, child. Your work will soon be done,” the midwife instructed sagely and Oliver, still tongue tied, found Felicity turning to him expectantly. She pressed a soft kiss to the quietly fussing infant’s forehead as she passed her over to Oliver, whose hands shook with uncertainty as he took his daughter. 

“There now, Daughter. Be good for your Father,” Felicity instructed their daughter with a weak smile and Oliver grinned at hearing the title placed upon him. _ Father_. He was a father! Still beaming, he pressed a kiss to Felicity’s cheek and allowed himself to be ushered from the room by the midwife, who assured him she’d come to fetch him when Felicity was finished. 

\-----

Minutes marched by without end; Oliver had brought his daughter down to meet her grandsire and granddam, both of whom surveyed the child mutely. Oliver knew both of them had wanted his firstborn to be a son, through which the Queen family name could be continued. Oliver, however, was so utterly smitten with his daughter that his parents’ quiet disapproval did not phase him in the slightest. 

While he and Thea cooed over his daughter and tended to her, however, no word came from above in regards to Felicity’s condition. It was a short eternity before the midwife appeared, looking haggard and drawn at the top of the stairs. Oliver took his daughter back from his sister at that point and raced to meet the older woman, anxious for word of his young wife. 

“Is it done, then?” He asked brightly as he reached the second story landing, his eyes bright as he eyed the woman who had proven such a tremendous help to Felicity. 

“As best as I can tell; she’s had a hard go of it, your wife. The afterbirth did not want to come and when it came 'twas in pieces. I have done my best to get it all but only time will tell. Tend to her carefully; she will need your full attention,” the woman advised sagely and Oliver nodded with a frown, worrying already as to what Felicity had endured in his absence. 

He crept back into their bedroom quietly, afraid of waking her lest she be asleep. But she was propped up in a sitting position against the pillows, pale and drawn yet smiling faintly when she saw him enter. 

“There you are,” she cooed, shifting against the pillows as he stole across the room, their daughter cradled tenderly in his arms. Felicity brightened at the sight of him holding their infant daughter and her smile widened. 

“Both of you!?”

“Of course. The littlest mistress of the house was eager to see her Mother again,” Oliver teased gently, offering their swaddled newborn to Felicity with careful hands. Tucking the babe against her breast, Felicity stared down at her child in awe, her eyes atwinkle as she looked back to her husband.

“She is entirely perfect, is she not?” 

“Like her mother before her; an absolute treasure,” he confirmed and Felicity ducked her head shyly beneath his praise. 

“And as for her name…?” Felicity trailed off, glancing curiously back to her husband. And he could tell, she was trying not to show it, but she was desperately curious if he had already taken the liberty of choosing a moniker upon their child without her present. 

“I would not dream of naming her without you.” 

Felicity nodded and her muscles loosened at this news, clearly relieved to know she had not missed the opportunity to bestow a name upon her firstborn. 

“I did think… Perhaps ‘Amelia’ would be nice?” Oliver offered hopefully and Felicity turned the name over on her tongue. She liked it better than many of the names she had heard bandied about by the other women in the social circles Oliver’s mother had tried to force her into. 

“We could call her ‘Mia’ in short?” Felicity offered encouragingly and Oliver positively beamed by way of response. 

“I love that. And I love you.” 

Leaning over her, he pressed a kiss to Felicity’s forehead and another to their daughter’s. Amelia scrunched her face up in response and let out a wail of complaint, to which both parents could not help but laugh. 

“She is a fiery little thing, is she not?” Felicity commented appreciatively and Oliver grinned proudly. 

“As her mother before her.” 

The two shared a knowing look and laughed quietly before turning their full attention to their daughter, who Felicity quickly brought to her breast to nurse. As his wife relaxed against him, exhausted but content, Oliver could not help but smile to himself. 

Never in all his days had his life felt so blissfully perfect as it did today. 

His bliss, however, was short lived. 

Felicity remained in bed for much of the coming days, leaving her domain of blankets and pillows only when necessary to tend to Amelia’s needs. She nursed the child throughout the day and even through the night, rendering their wetnurse almost entirely useless. But by the dawn of the third day after Amelia’s birth, Felicity had not only failed to improve - she seemed perhaps worse off than she had on the day of the actual birth. She awoke in a light sheen of sweat, her skin hot to the touch and her head pounding with pain. 

From that morning on, her condition only deteriorated. Before the week was up, Felicity’s milk had dried up, leaving her unable to nurse her infant daughter. Worse, she had almost no appetite and could not seem to convince herself to eat, causing her to shed weight like a winter coat in summer. Stress and sickness ate the very meat off her bones with a voracious appetite. The physician was summoned and ordered her bled, then prescribed arsenic for her, which was immediately sent for from the apothecary. 

But Felicity worsened after the physician’s visit; her fever intensified and she grew still weaker. Oliver watched in horror as his wife, always delicate, grew positively frail before his very eyes. By the one week anniversary of Amelia’s birth, Felicity confessed to be in great pain and Oliver was mad with worry, pacing the house until Thea thought he might wear through the floor boards. 

On the morning of the seventh day, Felicity begged to see her husband and Oliver appeared quickly before her, rumpled and wild eyed, though he calmed quickly in her presence. 

“Oliver,” her voice was scarcely above a whisper, weak and so distorted with pain as to be almost unrecognizable. “Please. Please. I cannot keep going like this,” she begged him and Oliver felt his heart breaking even as denial roared loud in his ears. 

“Felicity,” he crooned, brushing the hair back from her forehead, “‘twill be fine. The physician says you need only rest a while longer.” 

“Oliver,” she croaked in agony, “it has been a week. I have not improved. I know it pains you to hear it said plainly my love, but I am dying.” 

“NO!” His shout startled them both as he surged to his feet, shaking his head in dismay. It could not be. He would not let it be. An alarmed cry sounded from across the room, where little Amelia had been rudely started awake by her father’s shout. Wordlessly, the wetnurse came in and scooped the infant up, cooing softly to her as she departed the room with the newborn. 

His heart hammering, Oliver passed a hand regretfully over his face, breathing heavily as he turned back to Felicity, feeling for all the world like a broken, powerless, pathetic excuse for a man. 

Sitting once more beside Felicity, Oliver tried to control the tumult of emotion brutalizing him at the moment. Taking her hand in his, he endeavored to plead with her and to somehow, someway, make her see that all was not lost. 

“Felicity, you are the strongest woman I have ever met. You have lent me strength countless times. Let me lend you mine now. You will survive this. If ever anyone could, it would be you.”

“Oliver please,” she whispered, openly crying now, her chest heaving with each rasping breath, “I am in so much pain. And every day it grows worse. I feel the flames of hell in this fever.” 

“Hell cannot have you and Heaven shall have to wait,” Oliver countered stubbornly and Felicity let out a quavering sob.

“Oliver please, let me go. Please. I would have given up already were it not for you and Amelia. But I fear that there is little of me left to hold on any longer,” Felicity confessed and Oliver felt as though her words had cut the very guts from him. This could not be. He would not let it be so. Felicity had to live - she _ had to_! A world without Felicity was… _ unthinkable_. 

“No. I will not let you go, Felicity. Fight. Please. Fight on. For the love you bear me. For the love you bear our daughter. You must endure. You must live. Do you hear me? I ask you to fight. I ask you to live. Do not leave me to a world without you, love.” 

“Oliver please,” once more she entreatied him, “if love were enough I should never leave you.” She panted, coughing wetly as she struggled to sit and, failing that, simply rolled her face into the pillow as she hacked. When she turned once more to face him, beads of sweat were rolling down her reddened face and she was trembling. 

“I have nothing left in me. Please Oliver… please let me go. This is my last request of you. Everything… Everything hurts. All that remains of me is steeped in pain and suffering. I am dying. I feel it. Please… Please let me die with some measure of peace. If I fight until my last breath… I will know nothing but agony. I will spend my final days suffering beneath the weight of the knowledge that I have failed you and Amelia both. Please… let me go. I know ‘tis not fair of me to ask this of you. But please Oliver… let me die in peace. Please grant me that small comfort.” 

“No,” he shook his head in vehement opposal, “you may ask anything of me but that. Never that. Please, Felicity. I cannot agree to let you leave our daughter and I. She needs you. _ I _need you. Ask anything else of me. I will give you anything but I cannot give you that.” 

She stared at him with watery, bloodshot eyes, tears still rolling down her cheeks. When she nodded faintly, Oliver felt a victorious surge of joy and he slammed his eyes shut to hold back the tears. He failed to see the way she seemed to crumble even as she agreed, nor did he see her grimace of pain, or the tremor that ran through her body. 

Felicity had to live. She had to fight. And he would never agree to let her go for as long as he lived. He would sit here at her bedside, offering her water and toweling the sweat off of her for as long as it took. But he would never abandon her and he could not fathom her dying and leaving him behind. 

And for a few days more, he was able to delude himself into believing that she would endure and recover herself. But had he not been mad with grief, Oliver would have seen the way she was wasting away. Already small before her sickness, the flesh had melted off of her with alarming speed as the sickness had devoured her in the wake of Amelia’s birth. Her cough worsened, until every breath was such a noisy, labored affair that it could be heard by those walking by in the hall outside, even with the door closed. 

Her fever worsened and no amount of damp towels could bring it down. She grew so weak she could not use her chamber pot unassisted. She was increasingly difficult to rouse and sometimes she seemed so consumed by the fever that she could not think or speak straight. And still, Oliver clung to his foolish belief that she would miraculously recover. 

It was not until the physician came to check her again that Oliver felt fear scream through his veins in earnest. 

“I fear her time has come. She is in a great deal of pain. I can ease her passing - there are certain tinctures I may give her. They would… help ease her passing. ‘Tis a mercy, at this stage,” the man had explained to Oliver and Thea, who had been staying with her brother and his wife to help with Felicity’s care. Thea laid a consoling hand on Oliver’s shoulder and he shrugged it off angrily, glaring in hostility at the physician.

“Get out,” he growled through bared teeth. 

“Sir?” 

“I said get out. You want to poison my wife with your concoctions?! I ought to kill you where you stand.” 

“Oliver,” Thea tried to quiet him as the physician hustled out of the house. “Oliver you must see reason. Surely you must see that what the physician has said is true?” 

“Felicity is not dying!” Oliver hissed, shaking his head at his sister as he took the staircase steps two at a time to return to his wife’s bedside, leaving his sister to cry quietly alone in the entryway.

Felicity was scarcely conscious when he slipped into the room that once had felt airy and bright and joyous but now felt hot and claustrophobic and sickly. As he seated himself at her bedside, she drew a ragged breath and tried to speak, though it took her a few attempts to draw words forth. 

“I love you... Oliver.” 

He tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace than a grin; he could not bring himself to smile whilst he watched her struggle for air. Another twinge of fear beset him and still, he fought it, refusing to accept the notion that he was about to lose his better half. It could not be. He would not allow it to be. They were meant to grow old and gray together.

“And I love you, Felicity.” 

An unsteady, too bony hand grabbed weakly for his. His fingers instinctively coiled around hers, his thumb rubbing lovingly across her knuckles and the wedding band that he had, hardly a year prior, placed upon her finger. But as he tried to work himself up to the task of smiling in the fate of her obvious deterioration, she said something that knocked the air from his lungs. 

“I am so… so sorry. I… I tried. Forgive me, my love.” 

He opened his mouth to assure her that she had nothing to apologize or be forgiven for but before he could do so, he heard the rattling exhale, weighty with finality and somehow, instinctively, he knew. He rose to his feet in shock and disbelief and stared into the blue eyes he had come to know and love so well. The sight of them, empty of light and unseeing, devoid of the wit and love and warmth he had so cherished, shook him to his core and he let loose a mangled howl of grief.

“NO! Felicity please! PLEASE Felicity! Come back. Do not leave me. Do not,” he sobbed, sinking onto the bed beside her and pulling her unmoving figure into his arms. He wept openly into her hair as he held her cradled against his chest, his heart refusing to believe that which his head already knew. 

She was gone. 

Felicity had died. She had died, as she had warned him days ago that she would. And he, foolish, selfish, horrible man that he was, had forced her to draw out her suffering. He had selfishly prolonged her agony instead of complying with her last request of him. She had asked that he let her die in peace and instead, she had endured hell on Earth. 

Because of him. 

Her suffering had been his doing. All of it. He had denied her the one thing she had asked of him. And instead of seeing the error of his ways he had only committed himself further to his denial and in so doing, cost her further pain. He who had promised to love and protect her had, in her final days, denied and tormented her. 

Some husband he had been, in the end.

\-----

It was weeks later before Thea was able to convince him to leave the house and only then because she had insisted that the fresh air had been recommended by the physician to help both Oliver _ and _Amelia. It seemed the only way to encourage him to do anything was to highlight how it would benefit his daughter. The infant remained the only motivation Oliver had to go on living in the wake of Felicity’s death.

Thea had moved in with her brother following Felicity’s death. Though the household staff kept the place running smartly, there was little that could be done about Oliver and Thea took it upon herself to manage her brother as best she could. 

Using his daughter as both carrot and stick, Thea was able to force Oliver into surviving. At first, it was only the most meager of things that he could manage. Leaving his bed. Changing his clothes. The day he shaved was a momentous step forward. 

Things did not seem to improve much with time and while Thea was sensitive to her brother’s broken heart, their parents were less so. While Thea labored to keep Oliver and his household afloat, their parents beat him over the head with their insistence that he needed to take a new wife and that doing so would help him to move past his loss. Their suggestions were never met with enthusiasm. While Oliver lacked the energy to berate them for the very notion of it, his apathy and quiet dismissal was equally loud in its own way. The very first time it was suggested, he simply stood up and walked away without a word. 

Thea knew without having to ask that there would be no second wife for her brother. 

As the weeks and months passed, Thea found herself looking at her living situation with Oliver as less temporary and far more permanent. Several months after Felicity’s death, he had forced himself to go through the motions, but his spark was gone. In speaking with his apprentice, Roy, she knew that he still went to work and quietly went about his duties but whatever aptitude he had initially displayed for it all had vanished. Roy had undertaken a great deal of the work himself, a fact for which Thea was tremendously grateful. Without Oliver’s income, Thea knew the broken family of two would be in ruinous disrepair from which she doubted her brother could return. 

Thankfully, between Thea’s interventions into the running of the home and the rearing of Amelia, and Roy’s interventions in the family’s shipping business, somehow, the Queen household endured. Even as its spearhead seemed to withdraw further and further into himself. 

The only person for whom Oliver showed any signs of life was Amelia. And it was those interactions that gave Thea the energy to face each new day. More than once, she caught the young father holding his precious young daughter and speaking in quiet tones to her. Often, he spoke to the babe of her mother. Other times, he murmured to her about the beautiful life he wanted for her. Always, his words effused love and compassion, as if all the emotion he could contain was bottled up to be poured out for Amelia each day. And if that was what it took for Oliver to survive, Thea could not fault him for placing his energies solely into his young daughter.

Amelia proved to be a surprisingly resilient infant; she grew quickly and mercifully, was not prone to colic or the like. Thea was certain that if anything were to happen to Amelia, Oliver would lose himself entirely. And so she watched her young niece grow with bated breath, praying that the child was spared disease, disfigurement, or childhood death, all of which seemed to lurk around every corner. Plague and fever and pox struck down children all throughout the city and every time she caught wind of children falling ill, Thea told the nursemaid to keep the infant inside and under Thea’s watchful eyes. 

If the babe was to die, it would not be due to negligence on Thea’s part.

One afternoon as Thea was reviewing the household’s accounts, she heard the sound of Amelia wailing. Thea had just sent the wetnurse out to fetch milk from the market, so she made for the nursery to tend to the infant. But as she drew nearer, she heard a familiar voice coming from within the infant’s room. Thea hovered uncertainly for a moment in the doorway and it was then that she heard what Oliver was saying.

“Hello my Mia girl,” Oliver crooned softly, “my beautiful baby girl. There now, you needn’t fret. You still have me. And you always shall. I promise you… I failed her. I shall not fail you.” 

It was enough to bring tears to Thea’s eyes to hear him speak thus. She thanked God above for the child that gave her brother a reason to live and gave Thea herself a reason to carry on.

Time passed. Mia grew. And still, Thea stayed with the young family. Her involvement became such that she broke off her engagement; the needs of her brother and his household overruled her own wants and needs. Her parents were furious over the entire matter but Thea could not bring herself to care. Her only concern was for tending to her brother and niece. 

Thankfully, she was not alone in her concern. Oliver’s apprentice quickly rose to become his business partner and from that point on, Roy was quick to undertake any and all measures necessary to protect the business but more importantly, to protect the Queens. And on the occasions when Oliver invited him to dinner, Thea never protested.

She was rather fond of Master Roy. 

As Amelia grew, Thea found herself taking the child under her wing more and more as Oliver withdrew further and further. He loved his daughter - of that, there could be no doubt. He spared no expense on her behalf and he doted on her beyond all reasoning, leaving her letters each day before he departed for the docks before sunup. But Thea knew from watching him, that Amelia both filled his heart with joy and broke it open with despair. And it was no small wonder why. 

‘Mia’, as Oliver so affectionately called her, looked so much like her mother that at times, Thea thought she was looking at a ghost of her sister-in-law. And when Oliver looked at his daughter, it was clear he was reliving the loss of her mother over and over again. 

So not looking was often easier. 

Though Mia adored her father and preferred him to all others, the two spent less and less time together the more the young girl grew and continued to develop into a young woman downright striking in her resemblance to her mother. Oliver poured his heart and soul out to her through his now daily letters, which Mia treasured and kept in hatboxes beneath her bed. And Mia, in turn, sought his approval through any and all means, seeking only to make her father proud. 

It was enough to cleave Thea’s heart in two, watching father and daughter yearn for the other, unable to bear being together and unable to bear being apart. Thea did her best to fill the parental void in Mia’s life. And when she and Roy were married (some two years after Felicity’s death, which was sadly the catalyst that brought love to Thea’s life), he did his level best to act as a paternal figure for the young girl as well and doted on her as if she were his own. 

And still, Oliver persisted with his letters. Each day before he left for the docks, Oliver penned a new letter for his daughter and left it at her place at the dining table. And each day, Mia both looked forward to his letters and yet, seemed crushed to discover them, as if each day she hoped her father might forgo his written words to her in favor of speaking them face to face. 

But he never did. 

When she was older, Mia asked frequently for stories of her mother and later, asked why her father had never remarried. To this, Thea and Roy had only one answer that they could offer. 

Oliver Queen had known the greatest love a man could; the sort of soul scorching love that permanently altered the world through its existence - and through its absence. After knowing a love so great, he could not settle for anything less. Remarrying after Felicity’s death had simply never been an option. And though Mia went through a phase wherein she tried to push her father to remarry, the simple fact remained that Thea and Roy were right. 

Oliver never moved on. His heart and his soul forever belonged to Felicity. And no amount of time or distance could or would ever change that. 

\-----

On September 12, 1773 Felicity Queen passed away at her home in the city of Boston, with her loving husband at her side. And the light that Oliver had come to love, which shone from within her clear blue eyes, was lost to the world. Until July 24, 1841 when that same light reentered the world as Felicity’s soul was born again, this time as a squalling daughter born to a young married couple on a farm in West Virginia. She was the last to arrive, as ever; Oliver’s soul had been reborn already on May 16, 1837. Even as Felicity took her first breaths in her new life, already her soul was straining to find him, each wail like a clarion call that penetrated the dark night, seeking the great love of her life. 

It was time to try again.


	2. Chapter 2

He had come from Charlestown, or so the ladies around town had gossiped. He was the son of old money from the deep south - Georgia or thereabouts - come to Virginia on business. And no small wonder - Harpers Ferry was a hub of industrial activity in the mid 19th century. Between the US Armory and the canals and railroad lines that converged upon the beautiful town, there was plenty to draw entrepreneurial minds to the otherwise quiet region. 

For Felicity, the confluence of transportation lines and the steady flow of Northern merchants and political activists was a significant draw, enough so to lure her off the family farm and to make the trek into town - accomplished today on foot since her horse had turned up lame from a pebble in his hoof. 

Though most of the state was a grumble with the current political climate, Felicity was abuzz with it. And it was because of her political activism that she had come to be in Harpers Ferry on the day that Oliver Queen arrived. And though he hadn’t even been in town a full day, she’d already gotten an earful about him from everyone she’d spoken to, from the haberdasher where she’d purchased buttons to mend her father’s coat, to the milliner, where she’d picked up a spool of thread for her mother. Even the baker and the butcher had been discussing the presence of the Queen heir as he visited the arsenal and the railway offices. 

Felicity spared little care for the gossip about him though; just from the smart way he dressed, it was clear that Oliver was no stranger to the family money, which meant he was not well distanced from the source of it. The Queen fortune and their sordid business affairs throughout the country were built on the very objectionable things that made Felicity detest the Confederate south. 

No need to ask what side of the political line he fell on. And therefore, no need to waste her time getting to know him. She knew enough already. And while the ladies of Harpers Ferry might fall over themselves trying to attract his attention, Felicity did not bother to give him a second glance, fizzing good looks or no - she was decidedly _ not _interested. 

One thing she _ was _interested in? News from the north. 

The summer of 1860 had proved a tumultuous time; Felicity knew from reading the local papers, though she put little stock in the newsprint that could be so decidedly Confederate in its bias. She was quick to buy papers off merchants who came off the railways from up north, where newspapers were firm in their Union loyalties. But in reading both sides, she was able to piece together a more accurate understanding of the world beyond her sleepy Virginian upbringing. 

Her mother hated her political involvement, not because she was opposed to it (if anything, Felicity’s mother was as much a Unionist by heart as her daughter) but because she considered it dangerous and unladylike. And while Felicity was no Southern Belle, her mother wanted her daughter to marry up and live a life well cared for by a man who would be a proper husband and gentleman. Her father, however, was more inclined to encourage his daughter, he himself being something of a political activist in his own right. 

For all her knowledge of the political battleground, however, Felicity was still not well versed in one thing that would prove exceptionally dangerous - the cruelty of men. 

As she walked along, bound for home, she was too engrossed in her reading material to pay any mind to the few townsfolk she passed on her way. But as she neared the outskirts of town, she heard raucous laughter and whooping from just ahead of her. She adroitly altered her course to avoid the rambunctious trio of young men all of whom were a few years her senior. 

But as it turned out, the young men were not content to simply be passed by. 

“Well lookie here boys, it seems to me we have ourselves a true blue Northern sympathizer!” One of them hollered, jostling Felicity as he snatched the paper right out of her hands. Flabbergasted, Felicity stomped her foot in rage, glaring at the young man defiantly. 

“Well I _ never! _” Felicity hissed out in a rush, making one ill timed grab for the paper before the boy danced away, tearing it pointedly. 

“You ought to choose your readin’ material more wisely,” crooned the second young man as he sidled up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist in entirely too familiar a manner. 

“You ought to choose where to place your hands ‘more wisely’,” Felicity growled, swatting his hands away from her angrily. “I have never in all my life been treated in such an uncouth manner. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!”

“Ashamed? We ain’t ashamed of nothing but your pathetic Yankee lovin’ ways,” the third boy sneered, stepping entirely too close for comfort. His deep set eyes glowered dangerously at her and Felicity felt her bravado falter slightly. 

“You have no notion as to what my politics are. And just because I choose to broaden my horizons with papers from beyond this small town does not make me a sympathizer one way or the other,” Felicity grumbled, entirely in a rage as she wrenched away from the trio and tried to continue on her way home. 

“Hold on there Miss Uppity!” Crowed one member of the trio, grabbing her and pushing her away from the road.

“Get your hands off of me!” Felicity howled, hoping someone would hear her. But they were at the outskirts of town and there seemed to be no one about.

Until she heard an unfamiliar male voice break through the ruckus. 

“The lady asked you to take your hands off of her.” 

The trio manhandling her froze and turned to look back at the road and Felicity followed their gaze. Riding primly upon a flashy, well bred bay horse sat Oliver Queen himself, staring venomously down at her would-be attackers. 

“You are a bricky feller, I give you that.” One of the boys whistled, chortling as he stared up at Oliver. “You really think one of you is fit to take on three of us?” 

In answer, Oliver drew back his coat enough to reveal the pistol on his hip.

“I do indeed,” Oliver answered, grabbing the pistol and aiming it at the group with purpose. Felicity heard the telltale ‘click’ as he drew a bead on the boys and despite herself, she swallowed. 

The trio seemed to contemplate pushing their luck for all of a moment and just as suddenly, they ran off, leaving a ruffled Felicity alone with the very man she had been so delighted to avoid. She regarded him skeptically before she dusted herself off and set herself to rights.

“Thank you for your intervention,” she remarked brusquely, flashing him a feigned smile as she readied herself to carry on towards home. “It was most noble of you. You have my gratitude, sir.” 

With that, she began the long walk, determined to get there without further delay from foolish, small minded boys or cocky, rich men. But Oliver, it seemed, had other ideas. 

“My name is Oliver Queen,” he began and since he could not see her face, Felicity allowed herself to roll her eyes. 

“I assumed as much; you have our small corner of the world rather in an uproar with your presence here. I would wager there is not a woman in Harpers Ferry that does not know who you are.”

“Is that so?”

“It is indeed.” 

“And would you count yourself as a woman in Harpers Ferry?” 

“I am standing in the town, am I not?” She huffed irritably in response, only to hear him chuckle quietly. 

“If we are splitting hairs, you left the edge of town some yards back,” he pointed out smartly and it was all Felicity could do not to slap him. As she continued walking, he kept following her, allowing his horse to plod along at a leisurely pace alongside or just behind her. 

“Your attention to detail is remarkable, sir.” 

“As is your lack of it.” 

At this, Felicity whirled to face him, her cheeks flushing in anger.

“I beg your pardon!?” She caught herself just in time to stop herself from screeching but it was a near thing. Oliver did not appear the slightest bit put off. 

“The purchase of Union sympathizing print may come as a thrill to you, Miss…?” At this he trailed off expectantly and Felicity could only ball her hands into her skirts to prevent herself from doing something unseemly. 

“Kuttler,” she responded curtly, intentionally omitting her first name, polite introductions be damned. 

“Miss Kuttler,” Oliver repeated after a long beat made it apparent she was not going to offer him her first name. “As I was saying. It may thrill you to do so, Miss Kuttler, but that thrill may well cost you dearly as our country grows ever more volatile and divided. I would advise you to reconsider your purchases, or at the very least, I would urge you to do such reading in the privacy of your home.” 

Inwardly, Felicity could not help but admit that he was right; she had been overbold in parading about with her papers, even as the political scene grew more and more divisive. But she was certainly not about to admit that to _ him_. 

“Your concerns are duly noted, Mister Queen but I believe I can decide for myself what purchases to make and where and when to display them. Now if you will excuse me, I must be returning home.” 

Though she increased her stride, his horse had no trouble keeping abreast of her and to her dismay, he did not turn the beast back in the direction of town.

“And pray tell, Miss Kuttler, how far is ‘home’ for you?”

“Whyever are you interested, Mister Queen? Are you in the market for small family farms now? I thought your family business had rather larger aims.” 

She danced around his question, not at all keen on telling him where she lived. It was bad enough having to avoid him in town; she did not need to be dodging him near her home as well. 

“Hardly; I ask only because I am not firmly of the belief that your three acquaintances there truly have scampered off. I would find it horribly improper of myself to leave you unprotected, should that prove to be the case. Therefore, I would ask you to allow me to escort you home, that I might see to your safe delivery.” 

Felicity felt anger surge through her, white hot and blinding. 

“I should not think that at all necessary, Mister Queen.” 

“I insist. It would be my honor. I can even give you a ride to shorten the time it will take us to cover the ground.” 

At this she stopped dead, staring at him in utter confusion.

“You truly mean it? You intend to take me home?” 

“If you are opposed to riding, I will escort you on foot if I must. But I have no intention of leaving you to the likes of those three.” Oliver confirmed and Felicity heaved a sigh. Of all the men in all the towns, of course she had wound up stuck with Oliver Jonas Queen as her self appointed protector. And she could not bear the thought of spending the time it would take to walk home trapped in his company.

If she had to be in his company, better to ride and arrive home quicker and be rid of him.

“Fine. If there is no convincing you as to my own self sufficiency, then I will accept your offer of a ride. The sooner I get home, the sooner our business may be at an end,” she sniffed at him as she stopped walking towards home and instead, approached his horse. 

He swung down from it swiftly, intent on helping her up. And though she would have loved to deny him… she needed the assistance. When he offered her his hand, she took it, only to experience the strangest sensation. A warm tingle of familiarity traveled through her when their hands met and as she looked him dead in the eyes, she felt a flutter in her stomach that she could not quite identify. As he boosted her up into the saddle and then followed after her himself, Felicity tried to dismiss it as simple girlish attraction. He was handsome and she had simply experienced a momentary, passing fancy. Nothing more. 

Definitely nothing more. There was nothing familiar about him except his Southern entitled attitude. Classic Southern boy. 

And that was how Felicity Kuttler found herself riding for home, sitting astride Oliver Queen’s horse with the man himself holding her onto the animal. If ever she had wanted to die of mortification, it was in the long, _ interminable _ride from the edge of Harpers Ferry to her parents’ farm some miles distant. 

As she directed him to turn down the lane that led for home, she caught sight of her mother leaving the barn. Felicity saw the precise moment that Donna Kuttler saw her daughter coming towards her on horseback with a man she didn’t recognize. And her mother, true to form, barely contained her overt glee at the sight.

Unfortunately, Oliver had noticed it as well.

“Your mother?” He queried quietly and Felicity offered an almost imperceptible nod. 

“Indeed.” 

“You resemble her a great deal,” he commented and Felicity felt herself almost smile at the notion until he opened his mouth again, “although she smiles far more than you.” 

And there it was. Back to disgust. 

As he reined his horse to a halt just in front of the Kuttler home, Felicity’s father appeared within the doorway of the barn, cleaning his hands on a scrap of cloth. To his credit, Noah Kuttler hid his surprise far better than his wife and aside from a single, arched brow, gave no outward indication of his shock at the sight of Felicity astride a horse with Oliver Queen behind her. 

She did not wait for him to swing down and assist her off the horse; instead, Felicity hopped off on her own, her bones jarring roughly as her feet smacked against the earth. Hoping to forestall her parents and, potentially, get rid of Oliver without delay, Felicity turned back to him dismissively.

“Well I am much obliged for your chivalry, Mister Queen. As you have seen me safely home, I believe our business it as an end,” she hurried, smoothing her ruffled skirts before she lifted her gaze back up to meet his. To her great surprise, she found him smiling down at her, shaking his head as he swung out of the saddle. 

“It was my pleasure, Miss Kuttler,” he remarked cheekily, plucking his hat off his head as he swept into a tidy bow before her.

“What’s this I heard about chivalry? Felicity, do introduce your Father and I to your charming young friend,” Donna Kuttler requested pointedly as she hurried to her daughter’s side, breathless as she pulled Felicity against her side. Felicity could only grit her teeth, furious that her mother had prolonged what had already been entirely too much time in Oliver’s company. 

“Mama, this is Mister Oliver Queen. He assisted me in town with a small matter and insisted on seeing me safely home,” Felicity explained, doing her level best to project nonchalance. But as her eyes turned back to Oliver, she saw mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“Miss Felicity,” Oliver emphasized her name and Felicity glowered in response. Here she had intentionally avoided giving him her name and her mother had gone and given it away like it was nothing. “-was in town when I watched her run afoul of some young hoodlums. I dispatched of them but I wanted to ensure her safe return home, so I offered to give her a ride. I apologize if the manner of her delivery was at all inappropriate; I had only the one horse and she was in a great rush to arrive, so we rode double.” Oliver explained it all so simply. But it was so much more complicated. In his version he sounded like a hero! In hers? He was useful for a moment and then, a nuisance every moment thereafter. 

“Which hoodlums were they, exactly?” Her father had arrived at this point and Felicity could hear the minor note of worry in his voice as he asked the question. 

“Just some of the town boys…” Felicity trailed uneasily and her father narrowed his eyes at her.

“Felicity….” He warned and she frowned and gave in. There was no point fighting her father when his mind was made up.

“Adrian and his friends.” 

“As in Adrian _ Chase_?” Her father questioned, not waiting for her response before he continued. “I suppose his lackeys Damien and Slade were involved as well?” He queried and Felicity nodded, watching as her father’s gaze hardened and in response, she could only flush. Turning his attention to Oliver, Noah Kuttler spoke again. “It sounds as though we owe you our thanks, Mister Queen. I know just the hoodlums and I thank you for ensuring they did nothing untowards with my daughter. They are hardly the finest folk that Harpers Ferry has to offer.” 

“It was nothing,” Oliver dismissed with a shrug. “I was happy to help.” 

“Please, let us thank you by inviting you to take dinner with us tonight!” Donna Kuttler spoke up enthusiastically and Felicity made a face at her mother outside of Oliver’s line of sight. _ No! _ Absolutely not! She did _ not _want this Confederate loving riff raff staying a moment longer and here her mother was inviting him to dinner?! 

“Oh, I could not possibly impose upon your hospitality like that,” Oliver declined and Felicity relaxed for a moment until her father took up the torch. 

“We will not be taking no for an answer Mister Queen. You can stay the night if you like, that way you need not ride back to town in the dark. But I insist. You saved our daughter, it is the very least we can do.” Noah Kuttler pressed and Felicity felt as though her blood might boil and burst out of her. What were her parents thinking?! 

“Well, I am much obliged. Very well. I accept. Thank you, Mister and Missus Kuttler. And of course, thank _ you _ Miss Felicity.” Oliver flashed her a smile and she ground her teeth as she nodded wordlessly, too furious to try and muster a polite response. 

Now she had to endure a meal and an evening with him? The day kept getting worse and worse.

At this, her father insisted on taking Oliver’s horse to the barn, while her mother ushered him into the house, waving for Felicity to follow. Inhaling deeply, Felicity steadied her nerves and trailed along behind them.

“I will go tend to the meal but Felicity can show you around,” Donna explained happily, grinning like a fool as she turned away from Oliver and towards her daughter, a scowl of warning on her face. Donna Kuttler had never missed an opportunity to pair her daughter with a decent man and now, a rich bachelor had just fallen into her lap. She was clearly determined not to let Felicity mess this up. 

Inwardly groaning, Felicity stepped forward to give him the fastest possible tour, not that there was much to the house anyhow. A few bedrooms, the kitchen and dining areas, and her father’s study made up the bulk of the space outside of the parlor they now occupied. 

Before she could begin, however, Oliver had stepped towards the small end table nearby, laden with books. He perused them intently, then swung his eyes back to her.

“Are you a reader?” 

“Insomuch as one can be, this far from the world.” Books were often expensive and the reading material more widely available around Harpers Ferry was often not the likes of which she wanted to read. Southern novels, glorifying a way of life she could not and did not wish to fathom. The books Felicity wanted were progressive and not often received favorably in this corner of the world.

“I can think of a number of titles I believe you would enjoy,” Oliver commented idly as his fingers trailed across the book spines, his lips moving as he mouthed the titles. 

“And what sort of things do you presume I ‘enjoy’?” She queried, crossing her arms before her reflexively. 

“I daresay you make it sound as though you presume to know what _ I _enjoy. So perhaps I should be asking you that very question,” Oliver chuckled and Felicity flushed scarlet before she took him up on his challenge.

“Very well. You enjoy novels with well bred men and their fortunes winning the day. The sort of novels where the hero wins the Southern Belle and the adoration of his town with his natural good looks and charm and almost no true effort. How does that sound?” She was very nearly growling but Oliver was still smiling and it chafed her terribly. 

“That is certainly one guess,” Oliver answered, rolling his shoulders noncommittally as he stepped away from the books on the stand and perused the rest of the parlor. Felicity desperately wanted to slap him. He clearly did not intend to tell her she’d been right. 

So instead she would just have to keep pushing.

“Or perhaps you enjoy books glorifying the Southern way of life and the Southern way of thinking. Close minded books that take no qualms with treating people as less than animals.” 

“This sounds to me like the same guess as your first,” Oliver pointed out, still not confirming or denying her guess. 

“Are you always so infuriating?” 

“Only to farmers’ daughters who are avid Union supporters, it would seem.” Oliver commented in total nonchalance and once more, Felicity wanted to strangle him. 

And so it went. She pressed him in an attempt to make him admit his own personal viewpoints on things but always, he danced around answering her plainly. It went on through dinner and despite a few withering glares from her parents (particularly her mother) Felicity persisted.

Was it so much to ask that he admit he supported the Confederate viewpoint? Felicity did not think so. 

As soon as she could feasibly do so, Felicity excused herself from Oliver’s company. An early night was preferable to enduring a moment more in his company and as soon as she was excused she saw herself to her room, intent on sleeping through the rest of his damnable visit.

In the middle of the night, however, she awoke and could not seem to fall back to sleep. After tossing and turning, she finally pulled on a coat and stepped out onto the porch. It was only after she had closed the door behind her that she realized someone else was already here. 

He was leaning against the porch railing and had plainly been staring out upon the fields until he had heard her coming. Oliver Queen looked less imposing by moonlight, she thought to herself, even as her stomach twisted anxiously at the unwelcome sight of him. 

“Well hello there,” Oliver whispered softly, his eyes surprisingly bright as he watched her. “I hope I did not wake you with my restlessness.” 

“No.... I had no notion you were out here. You did not disturb me in the slightest.” She remarked, only half awake in truth. 

“Your behavior at dinner would indicate otherwise,” he commented teasingly and Felicity blanched at the remark. So he was not completely dense after all - he had noticed. Good. Before she could say a word in her own defense, however, Oliver continued.

“It may surprise you to know that the South - the _ deep South _ most especially - is rather different, even from the likes of Harpers Ferry. And there, any sentiment that is not staunchly in support of the cause can get a man into the sort of trouble that gets him killed,” Oliver explained and Felicity found herself listening attentively, much to her own surprise. 

“You may speak freely before your parents because you share the same feelings on these issues. So I would implore you to imagine for a moment what it might be like to be unable to speak freely in front of your parents. Or your sister. Or your dearest friend. In short… it is rather lonely, being a Unionist in the heart of the South. Even being in the company of the man who is like a brother to me has become difficult because all I can think of is how a war would pit us on opposite sides of a battlefield. My greatest fear is that we would bring each other harm.” 

Felicity felt her mind go completely blank as she tried to process what Oliver was telling her in his surprising rush of honesty. Her shock was so great, she could not help how her lips parted, her mouth hanging open in surprise. 

“Miss Felicity, rest assured that you are not alone in your sentiments regarding the ‘Southern way of life’, as you put it. Some of us, however, have long lived with the knowledge that such a way is the wrong way. But to speak to that there is a death sentence. So you will excuse me if I do not espouse my views from upon mountaintops as you do. And while I consider your manner most brave, allow me to offer this word of warning: a change is coming. And when it does, it will be most dangerous for us all, though I believe justice and what is right will prevail in the end. I would urge you to be more considerate of how and in what way you show your allegiance to the Union though, for your own safety’s sake.” 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Felicity murmured hoarsely as she found her voice, still completely taken aback by the realization that Oliver Queen, rich bachelor and heir to the Queen company fortune, was a secret Union sympathizer. 

“I feel as though I can trust you, Miss Kuttler,” Oliver confessed in a whisper, his eyes staring out upon the moonlit fields as his hands twitched nervously at his sides. “Perhaps that makes me a fool; I have known you less than a day but from the moment I saw you, I felt the strangest stirring. It is as if my soul has known your soul for far longer than a day. I do not know if that makes sense, or if I am spouting nonsense but… there you have it.” He sighed and shook his head, a wry smile on his face as he turned back to look at her. 

“It does not make you foolish,” she answered him suddenly, taking a step forward and covering his hand with hers without thinking. Once more, she felt a rush of familiarity and warmth, just as she had the first time their hands had met. “I think it makes you brave. In these times… trust is difficult to come by. And if you were to decide to trust me… I should think that was most courageous of you.” 

He looked down to where their hands were joined and Felicity swallowed uneasily as she realized how forward she had been in taking his hand. Instead of criticizing her though, Oliver’s fingers curled appreciatively over hers, holding her to him with a soft, shy smile. 

“I would very much like to write to you… If you would be amenable to such an arrangement. I should feel less lonely, returning home, if I could exchange words with you.” 

Felicity drew a breath as she weighed the possible outcomes of such a scenario but ultimately, she realized she did not care what the benefits and drawbacks might be. She found herself very much wanting to exchange letters with Mister Queen, though she could not have said, beyond a healthy dose of curiosity, why it was that she felt so strongly. Indeed, she had badly misjudged him and now, the true version of him that he was revealing to her drew her in more and more. In that moment, she knew only that he had proven to be much more than she had initially believed. And whatever he was, she wanted to know more about him. 

“I believe I would like that very much.” 

His eyes lit up with surprise, though his mouth did not betray so much as a smile or a frown. His hand that held hers, however, rose and slowly lifted her knuckles to his lips, where he placed a chaste kiss, his eyes remaining on hers all the while. 

Uncertain what to say in the face of such genteel affection, Felicity could only stare back at him, a subtle blush creeping across her cheeks and down her neck. Never in all her life had she had a gentleman caller. She had fancied a boy or two, to be sure, but never had one actually undertaken the process of courtship. And here before her she had Oliver Queen, taking her hand and kissing it softly as he asked to write to her. 

“It… It is late. I should probably try for sleep,” she offered weakly, aware that it was a thin excuse but determined to excuse herself nonetheless. It had been one thing to stand making polite conversation with him when he was simply her father’s guest. It was another thing entirely to stand out on the porch alone and unsupervised with him when he had openly asked to write her and then made clear with a kiss that his intentions were more than simple friendship; courtship had rules and she might not be a high society lady but she would endeavor to observe them, for the sake of Oliver’s reputation as well as her own. 

“Sleep well, Miss Kuttler,” he responded in a low tone, his eyes twinkling as he watched her, delight etched on the lines of his face. 

“And you as well, Mister Queen,” she began to depart, opening the door to the house when she stopped and turned back to face him, deciding to be brave at least once more tonight. “Oliver,” she amended, her lips turned upwards in a smile as she used his Christian name before she disappeared into the house, leaving him alone with the stars and the moon. 

\-----

The next morning when she awoke, Mister Queen had already departed. Her mother and father were both bustling with an energy she was unaccustomed to, though neither would admit to why. After a rather unusual morning breakfast, during which her father excused himself early to begin his work in the fields, Felicity finally could bear the tension no longer.

“Mama, what in the world has you and Daddy so frazzled?” Felicity asked bluntly, unable to contemplate even so much as another bite of her porridge until her mother had answered her. To her credit, Donna kept a neutral face, though Felicity could tell her mother was hiding something. 

“I believe you are mistaken my dear, your Daddy and I are right as rain,” her mother put her off and quickly cleared the dishes. 

“Don’t sell me a dog, Mama! I know you two are keeping something from me and I want to know what it is! Does it have to do with Mister Queen?” Felicity pressed stubbornly. At the mention of his name, Donna dropped the spoon in her hands and it clattered to the floor as Donna inhaled sharply.

Felicity jumped upon this sign of weakness on her mother’s part.

“It _ does _have to do with him! What happened? Oh Mama, please tell me. You know I hate mysteries,” Felicity pleaded, getting up from the table to cling to her mother’s hand. Donna shooed her away with her apron, bending to retrieve the fallen spoon.

“It so happens that Mister Queen left a letter for your father, indicating his interest in being granted permission to court you,” Donna responded briskly, her voice growing higher in pitch as she neared the end of her sentence. Felicity felt her eyes go wide and her mouth gape at this. 

Certainly this was not news - he had expressed his intentions, not in so many words, the night before. But to do so with her father in such a frank manner? Well, even by courtship standards, it was a bold move to indicate so strong an interest at such an early stage. 

“I want to read the letter,” Felicity responded automatically, only for her mother to shoot her a scowl.

“Unless your name is Noah Kuttler that letter is not for you.” 

“It is a letter _ about _ me! I think I have a right to read it!” 

“You have a right to read all the letters he will send you in the months to come but that one is for your father,” Donna argued, prompting Felicity to glower angrily from the other side of the table. 

“She may read it.” 

Both women froze as her father’s voice cut through the tension. Swept up in their discourse, neither of them had heard him sweep in. He was smiling as he entered the room and pressed a soft kiss to his wife’s cheek. 

Turning his focus to his daughter, Noah studied her fondly for a moment and then sighed.

“It is in my study. You may read it. She is right, Donna. The letter is in regards to her. She might as well know what she has gotten herself into.” 

Without delay, Felicity hurried to her father’s study and found the letter sitting there. She saw that Oliver had indeed addressed it to her father and her excitement only grew as she opened it to read what he had written.

_ Mister Kuttler - _

_ I first must thank you for the tremendous generosity you and your family have bestowed on me. In all my travels I have never been privileged to a more excellent host than you have been. And for that you have my many thanks. _

_ The purpose of this letter, however, is twofold. In addition to offering my thanks I must ask you for something more than your hospitality. If I ask too much, I apologize but I find it of paramount importance for a man to be honest with himself. And my truth is this: _

_ My family has deep roots in the south. As we discussed at dinner evening last, you know of my family by the company that bears our surname. As the only son born to the Queen family fortune, I am well established and well educated. My fortune has been largely made for me in this life, though be assured, I have no intention of resting on those laurels. I say this merely to indicate the stability to which I am privileged to enjoy in this life, and which I would be able to afford to any woman I should take as my wife. Up to this point, my parents have had their eye on a certain woman for me to marry. She is a well regarded Southern Belle and someone I have grown up knowing. I have taken no actions that would indicate my interest but still, my parents persist in trying to make a match of us. Having met your daughter, I know with certainty that there is but one woman whom I wish to court. And she is no Confederate sympathizing Southern Belle. Which brings me to my purpose today. _

_ If you are of the opinion that I am of adequate merit, I should request your permission to court your daughter. I have known her but a short time, yet in those fleeting hours we have enjoyed, your daughter has stamped herself firmly upon my mind and, I admit, upon my heart. She is a woman unlike any I have ever met. In my humble opinion, she is a woman of remarkability of the highest order. I recognize that my distance makes courtship complex. Please know I intend to write to her with frequency and I shall return to Harpers Ferry in a few months time, should you see fit to give me permission to do so. _

_ I await your decision. I may be found at the lodgings in Harpers Ferry proper. I shall remain there for a week’s time before I continue my travels. _

_ Respectfully yours, _

_ Oliver Queen _

She nearly flew from the room when she was done reading and in so doing, nearly bowled her father over when she collided with him. Her mother was just behind him, looking eagerly to her daughter. 

“Well?” Noah asked his daughter as he brushed himself off from their collision. “What say you?”

“What do _ I _ say? What do _ you _ say? The letter and the question within it were for you!” 

“I am not so foolish a man as to presume to know your heart. I did not wish to answer him without having first spoken to you. So tell me, what are your thoughts on the matter? Do you wish me to give the boy my blessing, knowing his parents may be against the match and that there may be trouble from that discord?” 

Felicity felt her heart falter as her father turned the decision over to her. It was true, she barely knew him; not a day ago, she had thought them polar opposites and likely, opposite ends of the moral spectrum. But over the course of their conversation the night before, he had revealed himself to her layer by layer. And the innermost workings of his mind and his heart had both fascinated and delighted her. He had proven himself an utter gentleman with tact, guile, and kindness. Few could profess as much. And while Felicity was not without options, she knew that she would be hard pressed to find a man who was not averse to her political aptitude or her at times blunt manner. The small matter of his parents and their desire for him to court someone else meant little; she had his heart. He had said as much.

And in truth? 

She had opened herself up to Oliver out on that moonlit porch. And already, she felt the stirrings of affection for him. 

“I say… Yes. I would have you answer him that he may court me… If you truly do believe he is an appropriate suitor,” Felicity answered breathlessly, trying to ignore her mother’s delighted reaction. Noah studied his daughter for a long moment and then nodded his head with a faint smile.

“Very well.” 

\-----

Her father had ridden into town to deliver his letter of response to Oliver’s rented lodgings. Felicity had thought that certainly, that should be the end of the day’s excitement. However, that very evening, just before sunset, a horse and rider appeared at the end of the lane. Recognizing the rider as one of the local boys, Felicity and her mother stepped out onto the porch to greet him.

“Young Mister Harper, what brings you round these parts?” Donna Smoak called out as she dried her hands on her apron while the young man dismounted. Digging in his saddle bags, he withdrew something and then walked closer to the porch, doffing his hat as he went. 

“Evening Mistress Kuttler, Miss Kuttler. I was hired to deliver this here package to Miss Felicity,” he explained, holding out the neatly wrapped parcel before him. Surprised, Felicity came down the porch steps to meet him halfway, accepting the surprisingly heavy parcel from him with a whispered thanks. 

“Roy Harper are you telling me you are fixing to ride back into town right now?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Not without supper first,” Donna shook her head, gesturing to the kitchen just inside the house, where she already had a rather aromatic stew cooking.

“That will not be necessary, Missus Kuttler. I have business to attend to in town.” 

“All that means is you will be paying for someone else to make you a meal. And I will not have it,” Donna tutted. Not ordinarily one to turn down a free meal, Roy surprised both women by shaking his head and swinging back up into the saddle of his horse.

“No need to fret over me, ladies. My meal is bought and paid for already. Courtesy of my employer this fine evening.” 

“And who would that be?” Donna inquired as Roy reined his horse around. Flashing them a cocky smile, Roy called back over his shoulder as he dug his heels into his horse.

“Why, Mister Oliver Queen, of course!” 

Both women looked to the parcel in surprise and then back to Roy as he rode up the lane and towards town. There was a moment of stunned silence and then together, the pair rushed inside the house and to the table, whereupon Felicity tore into the brown paper wrapping. 

A neatly folded letter rested atop a stack of books three novels tall. He’d sent her books! And not just any books - beautiful, new leather bound editions of note from the bookshop. _ Madame Bovary _ sat atop _ Moby-Dick_. Just beneath that was a third novel, _ The Scarlet Letter. _Felicity ran her fingers over the bindings in awe, keenly aware that such fine novels could not have been without some manner of expense. 

When she opened the letter, however, she was in for still further surprise, for between the folded piece of paper was a small fortune in bills. Gasping in surprise, Felicity showed her mother the money and then quickly dove into the letter. 

_ To the Lady Kuttler - _

_ It may please you to know that I have secured your father’s permission for us to write to one another. Recalling what you said regarding the expense of books and knowing the ever rising cost associated with the post, I have enclosed what I hope will be sufficient funds to cover the costs of ink and paper in addition to postage, that you may write me with any degree of frequency that you so choose. If at any point you should no longer wish to write to me, I would encourage you to do as you see fit with the money. It is yours to spend as you please. _

_ I trust that you will find a good use for the books. I have it on the authority of the bookshop proprietor that they are literary marvels, all. I confess, I have not read any of them. I will endeavor to send you a book of my own choosing when I return to my familial home. _

_ I hope to receive word from you soon. Until that time, be well. _

_ With great respect and affection, _

_ Oliver Queen _

\-----

And so began the elaborate exchange of shy love letters and small tokens of affection between Oliver Queen and Felicity Kuttler as their courtship took shape and bloomed. Through ink blots and parchment paper, the two explored the sentiments that had begun to form that night on the porch and which, thereafter, continued to grow with great speed. 

\-----

_ Mister Queen - _

_ In receipt of your first letter, I write to you today to express my gratitude. I had not imagined to hear from you while you were still in Harpers Ferry. I confess great surprise at having received your letter and the funds you included with it for the purpose of expenses related to our letter writing. I had not envisaged such generosity and in truth, you have delighted me with the gift of being able to write to you with greater frequency than I had originally conceived. _

_ I have delighted in reading the books you sent me. I have chosen to begin with Madame Bovary but I look forward to all three stories. It was most kind of you to think of myself and my small library. _

_ I hope that the rest of your business ventures play out to your satisfaction. I know that I shall count with great longing the days until you return to our sleepy corner of the world, that we may once more speak plainly as we did upon the porch. For while there is a certain, measured beauty in written form, I cannot say on paper how I feel, for fear that others should misunderstand. I believe the same is true for you. _

_ To that end, I will not waste paper or time by writing cryptic thoughts for you to try and puzzle out and thereby, leave room for misinterpretation. I value you too highly for such tedious work of translating hidden meanings. I shall simply say that I eagerly await the day we may once more speak freely about all matters of the head and of the heart. Our conversation upon the porch remains ever at the forefront of my thoughts, an always fond memory I enjoy revisiting. Until we are together once more, be safe and be well. _

_ Affectionately yours, _

_ Felicity Kuttler _

And so it went. Months of letters passed between them. Felicity often wrote him even without having given him the chance to respond to her previous letter. The post could be so slow in arriving that at times there were lags in communication but she never doubted that he was writing to her. 

And he always was; occasionally she would get letters from him at once that had been written a week or more apart. Wherever he traveled, he always told her what his next destination would be and for how long, that she might address letters to find him wherever business matters took him. 

As summer gave way to fall, the country’s political landscape grew still more strained and Felicity had to do away with her purchases of northern newsprint altogether. It simply was too dangerous to attract the wrong kind of attention during these times. And the wrong kind of attention was all too prominent. 

By the time November rolled around, the community of Harpers Ferry, and the country beyond, were so fraught with tension that Felicity feared a leaf falling to the ground might be enough to do them all in. But the deciding blow came not from a leaf; rather, it was the news of the winner of the Presidential election.

While the Kuttler family was privately pleased with the election of Abraham Lincoln to the office of President, the discord and anger that ensued in the wake of the news was enough to temper their good cheer. And for good reason. After learning the results of the election a day later, the country seemed to begin to spiral out of control. Felicity knew of only one thing to do during such a time of fear.

She wrote to Oliver.

_ My dearest, Mister Queen: _

_ You will have no doubt heard the news by now of the Presidential election. Having visited our small piece of paradise here in Virginia, you no doubt can assume to know how that news has been received. _

_ I am certain that this discontent will come to a head and soon. And I am ever more fearful that the war this will lead to will be unfathomably bloody. I know your heart and I know that you must fight. I will not ask you not to. But know that my deepest wish, if fight you must, is that you take no action so heroic in nature as to prove yourself an unduly attractive target. _

_ There is yet one item more I must ask of you and I know it is not my place to do so but these are dangerous times and if convention does not allow it, then convention I toss aside. Please, return to Harpers Ferry. I know not how much time we have before the sky falls upon our heads but if fall it must, I would wish to be in your company once more before it does. _

_ Devotedly yours, _

_ Felicity Kuttler _

She had written hurriedly and with little regard for the impropriety of asking the man courting her to come at once to call on her. With war seemingly imminent, she could think of little except her deep desire to see him one more time. He would have to pass this way regardless, if he still intended to fight for the Union (and she knew that he intended to do so). Setting a course that allowed him to come to see her first was not _ truly _such a large request… was it? 

Regardless. It was done. She had sent the letter off and waited for a reply, hoping one was soon to be in the offing. But instead of the feverishly quick reply she had envisioned, it was a long, torturous month before she had a letter from him.

_ My dearest, Miss Kuttler - _

_ The great bottom fact is the South is in an uproar. Lincoln’s election has the folks around these parts fighting mad. I fear that secession and war are imminent. And while there was a time when I would have welcomed the opportunity to fight for a cause greater than myself, I must admit that I find myself filled with abundant reluctance to leave when the going shall take me far from you. _

_ The word here in the south is the Union will be Chicagoed by summer. Knowing as I do that the Union believes they’ll dispatch of the Confederacy by fall, I fear that both sides will be wrong and we may all be long in the tooth before this war ‘tis done. _

_ It may please you to know I have informed Thomas of our courtship. He does not know the full details but he expressed an urgent desire to make a trip to Virginia posthaste, which I had to dissuade him of. I do not know if Harpers Ferry is yet prepared for the likes of my dear friend. There are days I hardly think I am prepared for the likes of him, in truth. He is oftentimes overmuch, though he means well. _

_ I confess, Thomas is not alone in wanting to go to Virginia. I have felt the urge to return to your quaint corner of the world since the moment I left it. And now, in such troubling times as these, and with your request burning in my heart, I cannot resist the call any longer. I intend to post this letter to you and then bring to a close my business dealings here in the south. My father will almost certainly accept my unease about the current climate as a reason to make another pass through the northern states to ensure our dealings are well in hand. _

_ I shall not inform him as to the true nature of my cause, lest he try to stop me. My dear lady, know that by the time this letter finds you, I shall be well underway in returning to you. _

_ I eagerly look forward to the day when I may once more look upon you with mine own eyes. And perhaps, hold you in fond embrace upon your parents’ porch. Until that great day arrives, take heart and be well. Know that you are ever in my thoughts and in my heart. _

_ Your loving servant, _

_ Oliver Queen _

She read the words over and over again, unable to help the way her heart clenched joyously when she read the words ‘your loving servant’. It was the closest to a confession of deeper affection as they had come. And in truth… he was not alone in the feeling of such things. 

Felicity had read the letter and reread it many times each day since she had first received it, some three days ago. She too had once hungered for such a political crossroads as this, believing that a war would lead to Union victory and the abolishment of slavery in a quick and decisive contest. Now that they were on the precipice of it though, the fear she felt tempered her naive, girlish outlook of months past. 

War meant fighting. Fighting meant killing. People would lose their loved ones - fathers, brothers, sons. Death stole life from them all indiscriminately. And Oliver intended to fight. To say she was worried about his safety would not have been an overstatement. 

She did not wish to lose him when she’d only barely begun to get to know him. In the months they had exchanged letters, she had found herself pouring her heart and soul out to him, though carefully eschewing all mention of political sentiments. Each word was written not only in ink but also in love, though she had yet to confess such sentiments to him. 

Once more, she allowed her eyes to pass over the date at the top of the paper. November 10, 1860. Already, a month had passed since he had sent this. She wondered where he was at this moment; was he on his way to her even now? Had his father tried to stop his leaving? Had he gotten himself into trouble on the journey? The world was an increasingly frightening place as the swirl of discontent grew louder and larger within the country. 

Folding the letter back up, she stuck it inside the cover of the leather bound book Oliver had sent her with his last letter. It had been the briefest correspondence of his yet. A simple line written in his looping scrawl.

_This novel speaks to my soul in a way few things in this world can. I trust you will find yourself similarly moved; it is my belief that you, like this novel, are fluent in the language spoken by my soul._ _\- O.Q._

The novel - _ Walden _ \- had proven a most insightful source of reading material. She could feel the great intention behind this selection on Oliver’s part, and one line in particular struck her rather sharply. 

_ “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” _

Something deep inside told her that Oliver had read this very line and been most affected by it. She just hoped that, whenever his time to die might be, it was yet far off. She wanted time to live deliberately alongside him first. 

As she left her room and went to assist her mother with meal preparations, the wind outside began to pick up and with it, the first snowflakes began to fall. The cold and the brewing storm both weighed heavily on her, along with the knowledge that by night’s end, another day would have passed without word of his safe arrival in Harpers Ferry. Doubt made her wonder if, perhaps, he had changed his mind and decided to forego their courtship altogether. But just as quickly, she banished the thought.

She trusted him. Perhaps it was foolish, given how little time they had spent together. But he had her trust and he had given her no cause to doubt it. She would not begin now. 

Her mother had just finished preparing a bit of pastry dough when Felicity heard her inhale sharply and she snapped to attention. Looking to her mother, Felicity saw the woman was staring out the window at the lane. Following her mother’s gaze, Felicity saw the source of her mother’s surprise; a lone figure on horseback, hunched forward against the wind as they made their way to the Kuttler home. 

By the time they cleaned their hands and rushed out to the porch, Oliver was already swinging down from the saddle, his horse’s reins in his hands as he walked to the base of the stairs, his face aglow as his eyes landed on hers, a toothy smile rippling across his features.

“Forgive the intrusion, Mistress Kuttler. I had hoped to send word that I had returned to Harpers Ferry and to invite you to join me for dinner. But when the weather began to take a turn, I could not fathom asking you all to make the trip in the snow,” he explained, his eyes holding fast to Felicity’s even as he spoke to her mother. She shivered beneath his gaze as he seemed to drink her in, as if he had been blind all this time and now suddenly could see. 

“You need no forgiveness, Mister Queen. You are always welcome here. There’s room for your horse in the barn and I believe Mister Kuttler should be coming down from there soon, he should be nearly finished with the cows. We can all take supper together then,” Donna offered without delay, watching Oliver keenly as he nodded and touched his hat to her deferentially.

“Much obliged, ma’am.” 

Felicity watched with bated breath as he led his horse towards the barn, turning to glance back at her more than once as he went. It was all she could do not to burst with joy. He was _ here_. He had finally arrived and he was alright. It was almost more than she had dared to hope. 

“I can handle the rest of the preparations, darling. I think it would be best if you were to go and make yourself ready for dinner,” her mother instructed pointedly and Felicity felt her cheeks flush at the suggestion. In truth, she was not dressed to entertain but rather, for household chores. Her mother was right to suggest she make herself presentable. They had a dinner guest, after all. The fact that he was also courting her? That was just added incentive to put her best foot forward. 

Dinner passed in a blur of laughter and conversation. Felicity delighted in how well Oliver got on with her parents, even when talk turned to more serious matters of politics and the growing sense of dread they all shared. Oliver informed them of matters in the south - the rage that swept the area like a blazing fire upon Lincoln’s election, the boisterous talk of secession and war. He relayed much and more to them that night and by the time they had finished dessert, the hour was already late. Her parents offered for him to stay the night but Oliver declined, citing as his reason that it would not be seen as proper, given his courtship of Felicity. 

At this, the two locked eyes from across the table and Felicity could not help but smile. It was the first time the formality of their arrangement had been spoken aloud by either of them but he said it so casually and confidently, she found she rather liked it. 

He took his leave of them and rode back to town through the snow, now several inches deep, with promises that he would call again tomorrow, if it pleased them.

And it certainly pleased Felicity just fine. 

\-----

December was roaring by like a freight engine and in the blink of an eye, they were almost upon Christmas. Oliver had come to call on her each day since he had arrived in town. At her parents insistence, they had also taken the wagon into town, that the young couple could be observed in public, for appearances sake. All that Felicity knew was that she was deliriously happy every minute spent in his company. They talked about all things under the sun. And in fact, they had been together when the most disturbing news yet reached Harpers Ferry.

“SECESSION! South Carolina’s gonna tell them Yankees where they can shove their Union doctrine!” One young man whooped to his friend, who was playfully shoving on him.

“South Carolina today - Virginia tomorrow!” He hooted joyously as they ran off scuffling. Felicity and Oliver shared a look and drew nearer to the post, where indeed the paper’s headline told the story of South Carolina’s formal secession from the United States of America. 

“When did this come down?” Oliver asked the postmaster quietly and the man leaned in close.

“Happened yesterday. Word came to us in time for today’s post.” 

And that was that. December 20, 1860 became the day that the United States ceased to be quite so united. It was as if the world had been turned upside down on her; everything was the same and yet, somehow radically different with the news of South Carolina’s political separation. Felicity was keenly aware of the fact that they were in public but she could not resist. As they stood for a few minutes more in the post master’s office, she let her fingers brush against Oliver’s. His fingers did not recoil, as she had feared he might, he being so proper and all. Instead, his fingers twitched closer to hers, curling ever so gently around hers so as to offer the smallest of physical comforts to her. 

It was enough.

When it came time for Felicity and her parents to return home, Oliver helped her into the wagon, his eyes following her with great care. Once she was secure, he also helped her mother, who remarked brightly upon Oliver’s remarkable good manners. 

It was Noah though, who Oliver seemed intent on having a word with. And when the patriarch of the family readied himself to hop aboard, Oliver stopped him short. 

“I would ask to have a brief word with you… if I may?” 

Felicity tried to catch Oliver’s eye, uncertain what his purpose was in asking to speak with her father, but concerned by the clouds in his eyes and the worry on his features. But he would not meet her eye and so, as Noah stepped away with him, the two women were left to wait and wonder.

\-----

Oliver waited until they were alone and out of earshot of the Kuttler women before he turned to face Noah Kuttler, unable to help the spike of nerves he felt as he took a breath. 

“Mister Kuttler,” he began, squaring his shoulders and throwing out his chest as he did his level best to look composed when, internally, he was all a flutter. “I recognize that, in ordinary times it is considered proper for a man to observe certain societal expectations when courting a lady. And ordinarily, I would be happy to do whatever was asked of me to prove myself a worthy suitor for your daughter. But times being what they are… tomorrow is not promised, sir. If war breaks out, I intend to fight for the Union. Your daughter is aware of this, as are you and your wife. If I fight, there is every chance I may die.”

At this, Oliver paused and swallowed, for though he knew the likelihood of such an outcome, that by no means made it easier to accept that he might have to die in order to secure the better, kinder sort of world he wanted to create. 

“My heart is unchanged where my politics are concerned. But my heart is also unchanged on matters of love. I love your daughter most truly. It is my greatest wish to be with her. The idea of leaving her is very nearly enough to make me reconsider my willingness to fight. In truth, sir… I love your daughter and I wish to marry her - with your blessing, if you will give it.” 

Noah was quiet as he considered Oliver’s words and for a time, Oliver feared the older man might refuse him outright. But when Mister Kuttler spoke, it was with a calm, measured tone and well thought out words. 

“Oliver, you know my daughter. Felicity is a woman of uncommon spirit and intellect. She is sharp tongued and sharp witted. The man that marries her must understand that her strong sentiments and her political opinions very well may lead her into trouble’s path someday. The man that takes her as his wife must understand and respect that and not seek to stifle her. Will you do that? The man that marries her must be willing to protect her above all others. Will you?” Noah explained with a tone of voice so stern and yet gentle that it was glaringly paternal. 

“You and my daughter are from two different worlds and you are very different people. You come from old money and are well off; we are modest farmers scratching out a living on the land. You are from a Christian family; we are not. With all the many differences between you, are you willing to take those differences and turn them into strengths that will benefit the two of you and your marriage?” 

Noah paused, drawing a deep breath as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

“If your answer to these questions is unequivocally ‘yes’, then Oliver, you have my blessing. But I do not want you to answer me now. Take some time. Think on what I have said.”

And with that, Noah clapped him on the back and spun on his heel to march back to the wagon. Oliver followed behind him so that he could doff his hat to Felicity and her mother in parting, his eyes trained on Felicity’s. 

Did he understand her strong sentiments? Not only did he understand them, he shared them. Did he respect her opinions? Deeply. He would no sooner stifle her than he would stifle himself. Was he willing to protect her? Absolutely. Would he turn the differences between them into strengths? Happily, yes. 

He did his best to ignore the questioning glint in Felicity’s eyes as she stared hard at him, going so far as to tilt her head at him in wonder. Biting back a chuckle at this expression of hers (one of his favorites, though truthfully every face she made was his favorite) he just gave a subtle shake of his head and watched as the family continued down the main street of town on their way home. 

When they had disappeared from view, Oliver made his way slowly back to his rented lodgings, mulling over Noah Kuttler’s words. Oliver knew without question that he loved Felicity. And he knew that he would do whatever was within his power to see her live a long, happy life. He wanted prosperity and happiness for her and he wanted them in abundance. He also firmly believed himself capable of providing both of those things to her if they were to marry. A few days would not change his mind - of that he was quite sure. However, Noah had asked that he take some time to think on the matter and so he would do precisely that. 

\-----

Christmas dawned cold and crisp and the snow underfoot made a pleasant _ crunch _ as Oliver traipsed through Harpers Ferry towards the stable. He had taken his time. He had thought through what Noah Kuttler had said to him. And he had arrived at one very simple conclusion.

Felicity Kuttler was a remarkable woman. America - be it North or South - had never known her equal, of that he had no doubts. She was everything he could have asked for in a partner and in a wife - intelligent, courageous, and kind. She was well spoken in addition to being outspoken and while some men might have frowned upon that, Oliver adored it. 

In truth, he adored everything about her. And he could not fathom his life without her now, having opened his world and his heart up to her. Trusting her had been one of the very best decisions he had made in his short life. And he would be a fool to allow this war to arrive, whenever it came, without having made his intentions known to her.

As he reached the Kuttler farm, Oliver was breathless with excitement. He took it upon himself to see his horse into the barn before he raced up the porch steps and knocked upon the door. The lazy spiral of smoke from the chimney told him the family was home and sure enough, Donna Kuttler was the one to answer him.

“Well Mister Queen! I daresay we did not know to expect you. Are you well, son?” 

“Very, thank you Miss Kuttler. And I apologize for the unexpected nature of my visit. I simply… I could not delay, I am afraid.” 

“Has something happened?” Donna asked and Oliver ducked his head and shook it.

“No ma’am, no word from town. I-... Well I need very much to speak with your daughter, if I might.” 

Nodding with faint concern, Donna ushered him into the house. Felicity and Noah were in the parlor, Felicity reading one of the novels he had sent her, Noah smoking from his pipe in front of a roaring fire. Both of them looked up when Oliver entered and Felicity’s face split wide with a confused albeit happy smile. 

Greeting them both in turn, Oliver turned his attention to Felicity.

“I confess, this is not quite how I envisioned doing this and for that I apologize. I had imagined something more romantic and perhaps less sudden. Something befitting a woman of such tremendous character as you. But I could not delay.” With that, he took her left hand in his and sank to one knee, prompting Felicity to gasp quietly.

“I know Christmas is a holiday less celebrated by your family. But for me, it is a day to be spent with those you love. Family. And you… you are my heart. You are my soul. You are the one I love and the one I wish to call family. And I know it is quite soon. Many will say it is too soon. But events are happening around our country, events that we cannot hope to stop. Tomorrow is not promised. But if I am granted tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that - there is only one person I would have at my side to face it. To that end… Felicity Megan Kuttler, will you make me the happiest man on the face of this earth by agreeing to marry me, that you may be my family in all truth?” 

She was radiant with joy and she nodded enthusiastically, half crying half laughing.

“Yes, I absolutely will.” 

He had taken it upon himself to procure a ring before he had left home a month ago; even then, he had truly known where his courtship with her would lead. He slipped it upon her finger now and rose, aglow with happiness as he pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. It was the most he could politely do in the way of affection. Engaged though they were, there were still rules and expectations to be observed. 

Soon. Soon they would be married and he could kiss her in earnest. 

\-----

Even accelerated as their courtship had been, Oliver had truly intended to observe a normal engagement period. But in the second week of January, three states more seceded from the Union - Mississippi, Florida, and Alabama. Keenly aware of what would follow secession, the young lovers were eager to be wed. Instead of a six month or year long engagement as Oliver had initially envisioned, they had the banns of marriage posted before January was over. 

Three weeks later in mid February, they were married without fanfare at the chapel in Harpers Ferry. His parents declined to make the trip, ‘times being what they were’ the trip north was considered too dangerous for Confederate supporting individuals such as themselves. And while Virginia was still largely in favor of the Confederacy, the area northwest of Harpers Ferry was decidedly Unionist, though Harpers Ferry itself was Confederate. The Queens still had no notion of their son’s loyalties nor those of his new wife, a fact which rankled Felicity, though she had decided not to harp on it with Oliver. He would tell them in his own way, in his own time. 

The plan had been for them to take up residence as boarders in town, until such time as something more permanent could be found. Felicity was hardly keen on being so far from her parents but she could hardly complain, given how far Oliver had already traveled from his familial roots. And besides, living in town would offer more immediate news of the political goings on of the country. By the time the couple were wed, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas had seceded too. Every day, it seemed there was news of new states seceding or threatening to do so and each day, Felicity had worried about what woes each new secession might bring. 

But on the day of their wedding, instead of taking her to their rented quarters in the bustling town, Oliver turned the wagon for her family home. Perplexed and querying after their destination though she was, he would not answer any of her questions and she was forced to sit and wonder as he guided the horse along the well worn path to her parents farm. Instead of turning up the familiar road at the end of which the cozy farmhouse waited, he urged the horse onward, grinning knowingly as she fixed him with a puzzled stare.

What he had waiting for her surpassed even her wildest of dreams.

The plot bordering her parents’ farm was owned by no one and as such, had been nothing but wild land. But when they rounded the bend and it came into view, it was plain to see that it was wild no more. A beautiful, two story house sat at the end of a dirt road that had only recently been worn into the soil. Freshly painted and with a newly planted winter garden, the house was a vision; beautiful and spacious without being overly extravagant. When he pulled the horse to a halt before it, Felicity could only gape at him uncomprehendingly.

“I wanted to give you a house that you would love. And I knew that you loved your Mama and Daddy’s plot of land so… I thought living down the road a ways might be close enough to be acceptable and I rounded up the boys in town to get it done in time. I hope… I hope it’s alright?”

In answer, she leaned forward and pressed an enthusiastic kiss to his lips, too surprised and overjoyed to give voice to how much she already loved the house he had built her. Felicity felt that she must surely be living in a fever dream - how could it be that the handsome man before her was now her lawfully wedded husband? How could he be so kind a soul as to build her a house - to build _ them _ a house - in which to start their family? How could so worldly a man be so content to remain in this distant corner of the world when he had seen and known so much of so many places far beyond these parts?

So many questions to which she had no answers, other than to say that he must truly and profoundly love her. There could be no rational explanation other than that. It was said that love could move a man to madness and were that true, Oliver Queen was mad as a hatter. 

“It’s tradition… to carry you across the threshold,” Oliver murmured against her cheek as he nuzzled her face after they broke apart from the kiss. She smiled in answer and leaned away from him, a hand touching his face tenderly.

“Well what are you waiting for?” 

He smiled at her and swept her into his arms before he carried her happily towards their new home and the love that surely awaited them within it.

\-----

The first months of their marriage were a bittersweet time. Felicity had never been happier than she was with Oliver but their country had never been more volatile. When President Lincoln was sworn into office in March, Harpers Ferry was rife with anger. And while Felicity could (and sometimes did) choose to hide from it all and instead, lost herself in Oliver’s arms, there was no denying the tenuous state of things in their country. 

But nothing could have readied her for the news that reached them in mid April, when word of the attack on Fort Sumter in South Carolina came down. Oliver had clutched her against him a little more tightly. They both were keenly aware that this was surely the beginning of the war they had long anticipated. 

Mere days later, President Lincoln issued a proclamation, calling upon Congress and some 75,000 militiamen. When Oliver brought home the newspaper from town with word of it, Felicity could hardly look at him for the tears welling in her eyes. They both knew what this meant. And Oliver had been ever honest in his intentions with her. 

He would go. And he would fight. 

What they had both been unprepared for was the secession of Virginia, a scant two days after President Lincoln’s proclamation. Oliver had wavered for a moment in his determination to go, fearful of leaving his new bride alone on a farm that had not yet been established, with no help save her neighboring parents. 

Though it had pained her to do so, Felicity had reminded him of the mission he had pledged himself to and the world he had sought to build. She still believed in it and in him. He had to go - even if it destroyed her to be parted from him. 

And so, as the end of April loomed, Felicity watched as Oliver readied himself to go. When her father announced he would be going with Oliver, Felicity thought she might break apart entirely. The two men she most dearly loved were marching into the jaws of potential death. It was not an easy truth to bear.

But she would bear it. Because she believed in Oliver and her father. They would both return. She did not doubt that. But when the morning of their departure dawned, Felicity was still distraught, try though she did to hide it. 

Oliver pressed the tintype photo of himself against her hand as they stood on the steps of the wraparound porch and she resisted the urge to look at it. She would not waste a moment looking at the image of him when she yet had the real thing before her. The tintype could wait until he was gone from view; as long as his figure was still within her line of sight, she would not turn away. She refused. 

“I do not want to let you go,” she exhaled unevenly in his ear, her arms coming up to wrap around him firmly. If she held on tight enough, perhaps she would wake to find this all nothing more than a horrid dream. But she knew better than that. This was real. And she was proud of him, even if him embarking on this quest was breaking her; Oliver was going to fight for the world they both wished to see. A world where, someday, they would proudly raise their children and teach them of how their father had fought to bring justice and equality to the world at a time when it was so sorely needed. 

Still, it was hard to think of such things when his departure was imminent. 

“I know I cannot change your mind. And I do not wish to. But I would ask one thing of you… I know that war is a brutal thing. And I know you will be asked to do things you never thought yourself capable of… such as killing. And while I have no desire for you to endure such trauma, I will ask this of you: do what you must to return home. You have never been a man to shy away from making difficult choices. Even if they are unbearably hard. I ask that you apply that same measure of devotion in the days and weeks to come, that you may live through this horrible war. We have a great deal of life left to live together, Oliver Queen. I have barely begun my work of loving you.” 

At this he smiled one of his special smiles, the kind that made his eyes shine like starlight while his lips lifted and his teeth just barely peeked out. It was his genuine smile, the kind he seemed to reserve for only certain circumstances - generally circumstances involving her. 

“Felicity, love is too small a word but it is all I have to offer. I love you more than life, more than air._ You _are the world I will fight each day to come back to.” 

“I will be here waiting for you when you do,” she exhaled with a teary smile and at that, he leaned forward to kiss her soundly. They were still kissing when her father appeared from the barn, leading his horse as well as Oliver’s, her mother walking alongside him.

It was time. 

Taking her hands in both of his, he lifted her knuckles to his lips and in a move reminiscent of that first night on her parents’ porch, he kissed her hands in a move so simple and deeply affectionate, she was moved to tears. Upon seeing her distress, he kissed her cheek and with one thumb, he brushed away her tears, cupping her face in his hand before he placed one last kiss to her lips. With a breath to rally himself, he closed his eyes and released his hold on her so he could turn to mount his horse. The absence of his warm fingers left her cold in the warm, late-April air. And though summer was soon in the offing, winter had come to Felicity’s heart and only Oliver’s return would warm it.

As Oliver and her father offered a wave of parting each, Felicity felt her mother slip an arm through hers in a quiet act of solidarity and strength as the two wives watched their menfolk turn and ride off. They would ride for the better part of a day until they were firmly within Union territory and then they would set about officially joining the Union Army. 

Felicity held herself together with an outward stoicism that did not betray her inner turmoil. But the moment Oliver had disappeared completely from view, she felt something within her break. She crumpled to the ground with a quiet sob, her fingers still warm with the last echo of his touch. 

With Oliver gone and the farm not yet broken in, the task of managing a farm so vast that was in need of so much labor was overwhelming to Felicity. She had been prepared to face it, however, until her mother informed her that Oliver had asked if Felicity might come to stay with her mother, that the two might provide companionship and aid to each other. And Felicity was only too glad to do so; Oliver knew her well. If she could not occupy the walls of their home with him, she would sooner be in her childhood home, keeping her mother company. Donna had taken Noah’s departure especially hard and had, for a short time, been despondent without him. 

And so Felicity moved back to the Kuttler home and reoccupied her former room while keeping a careful eye on her mother. And for a time, all was well as spring gave way to summer. 

It was a stifling night in mid-June when she awoke in the dark of night to the sound of an owl hooting from somewhere nearby. It was not the owl that had disturbed her, however. Bone weary though she was, the ringing pain in her head, coupled with a persistent ache in her lower back had made for a powerfully unpleasant combination. With a sigh, she gave up on sleep and padded out of her room and to the familiar porch. In the darkness of the wee hours, she could almost close her eyes and pretend she was reliving that fateful night, when she and Oliver had talked and she had seen how terribly she had misjudged him. 

It was almost easier to picture him here, in her parents' home, than it was in their own house; they’d had precious little time to create memories there for themselves. But here? Here was the place where he had first asked to write to her, here was the place their courtship had begun. Here was the place where the first seeds of love had been planted and taken root. Here in her family home, he had asked her to marry him.

As she leaned against the wooden railing, a quiet creak from behind her stole her attention and her mother stepped out to join her with a shy smile, her hand going to cover one of Felicity’s. 

“This is the fourth time in as many nights that you have woken in the middle of the night,” her mother pointed out, unable to hide the motherly tone in her voice. “Would you tell me what is troubling you?” 

Felicity smiled and shook her head with a shrug.

“Nothing more than normal, I suppose. I keep waking because of pain in my back and in my head. I am quite certain I have simply been worrying too much and my body is worse for it,” she hurried to reassure her mother. Though Donna had begun to return to normal, there were still times when the vibrant blonde retreated within herself, completely wrapped up in the empty void where her husband had always been. Felicity did not wish to chase her mother back to such darkness by worrying her over Felicity’s health.

Instead of fretting or growing quiet as Felicity had feared she might, however, Donna offered her daughter a smile that Felicity could not understand. 

“Oliver has been gone a month and a half,” Donna pointed out and Felicity nodded with a quiet sigh. She needed no reminder of how long her husband had been absent from her side; she was all too aware of that figure. But her mother pressed on, ever determined. “And you two were together a little over two and a half months before he went…” Donna trailed and Felicity nodded, still not seeing what her mother was trying to say. 

“Yes Mama. Why are you telling me things I already know?” The barest note of frustration crept into her voice, though she had tried her best to banish it. Instead of looking abashed though, Donna just gave a gentle laugh and patted her daughter’s hand. 

“Because my dear, I believe I have landed upon the cause of your discomfort.” 

“You have? Whatever is it?” Felicity queried, suddenly more animated as she gazed at her mother eagerly. If her mother knew the cause, perhaps she also knew a solution. 

“Felicity, when was the last time you recall having your monthly?”

Felicity gasped in shock at the implication, electricity singing through her veins as she mentally did the math and her stomach lurched with the realization. 

“I-....I-” 

With all of the upheaval surrounding the war and Oliver leaving, she had not thought to wonder at her missed courses; surely it was the stress making her late, nothing more. Since Oliver had left, another three states had seceded - Arkansas, North Carolina, and Tennessee - and each one had only added to her sense of stress and strain. But it had been months now and she had not bled a drop. Her eyes fell to her mother, wild with fear and she shook her head, swallowing thickly. Donna smiled at her daughter in understanding, and brought both hands to grip her daughter’s forearms reassuringly.

“My dear, you are with child. That is why you cannot sleep; the pain you feel? I felt the very same when I carried you.” 

Felicity fought to find her voice, her throat so choked with emotion that it took several attempts before she could manage words.

“W-What shall I tell Oliver? _ How _ shall I tell him?” 

At this her mother smiled and her expression was so serene that Felicity felt her fear soften ever so faintly. For whatever differences the two women had, Felicity had never had cause to doubt her mother’s love or the depth of her compassion. And her mother once more lived up to that faith. 

“You tell him that he now has twice the blessings he once knew. And twice as many reasons to make it home to you. Your husband is a good man; he will take heart in knowing his wife is carrying his child. You will see in time; children are a powerful source of hope.” 

\-----

_ My darling Husband, _

_ I miss you most acutely. And these last weeks, I have experienced fitful sleep, often waking in the night in physical pain. I had thought it simply the result of a heart made sick with worry, taxing the rest of the body. But my mother, ever keen on such matters, has shown me the error in my thinking and has identified the cause. _

_ I know I should preface this and write to you something to build you up. Bully for the wives that can. I am not cut from the same cloth and I cannot dally about writing flowery words when inside, my heart is racing. _

_ Oliver… you are to be a father. _

_ I promise, I am taking all pains to ensure that I care for myself and our child as best as I possibly can. Already, I have so much love for this small part of you that resides inside me. I take comfort in the knowledge that I carry you in my heart, so you are with me where’er I go. But to also have a part of you with me thusly? In truth, it delights me. _

_ So whatever hardships wait for you (for us, for your hardship is mine own), know that you have a wife and child at home. And we will be here when you come back from this wretched war. If ever you needed greater motivation to return, take it in the knowledge that the love and blessings awaiting you here have now increased twofold. _

_ Your loving and expectant wife, _

_ Felicity Queen _

\-----

Oliver received word of his wife’s pregnancy just before his first battle. Stationed under General McDowell just south of Washington, Oliver was readying himself for the coming fight when he received the words that would change his life forever. As simply as that, he had gone from a simple husband to a husband _ and father_. The change was one he delighted in. And just as Donna Kuttler had told her daughter, the news was a powerful source of hope for Oliver, giving him courage during the first Battle of Bull Run at the end of July. And it gave him hope even after the battle was lost and the Union retreated back to Washington with the newfound realization that the war would not, in fact, be a short one as so many of them had believed. 

Still, Oliver had hope. Because he had a wife and an unborn child to get back to. This war could not and would not go on forever. He would make his way back to them, come hell or high water or Confederate armies. 

\-----

_ Oliver my love - _

_ You are the father of a most beautiful daughter. I will be brief, for I am weary but know I will write to you again after I have rested. _

_ She was born late in the night of yesterday, December 18, 1861. My mother was at my side and she assures me, our daughter is healthy and I seem to have made it through the birth unscathed myself. _

_ She is perfect, our girl. Our Mia. I cannot wait for you to meet her. Be safe, dearest, and come home to us as soon as you can. _

_ Your loving wife and precious daughter, _

_ Felicity & Mia _

\-----

Time passed and life continued to be turned on its head by the events relating to the war. Battle followed battle and Felicity felt as though she walked permanently on pins and needles waiting for word of Oliver and her father. Though she had Mia and the running of the farm to occupy her, Felicity lived in a constant state of worry over her loved ones fighting in the war.

Soldiers became a constant presence in Harpers Ferry even amidst the rumblings of the state splintering in two. The Wheeling Convention of 1861 had started the talk of such a break and the talk had ever continued with ever changing fervor. The idea that Virginia might become two separate states intrigued Felicity but she did well to stay away from the politics of it; she had a daughter to watch over now and she could not risk harm befalling her because Felicity had poked her nose where it didn’t belong. Instead, she listened and planned from afar. And when she wanted to aid in the war effort, she took pains to assist the Women’s National Loyal League, and the US Sanitary Commission. 

September of 1862 brought riotous tumult to their lives; war swept into Harpers Ferry as the Confederates squashed Union forces in the span of a few days. And just like that, Felicity found herself living in a Confederate region in truth. By late June of 1863, however, the talk that had begun in 1861 became firm action - Virginia splintered in two and Felicity suddenly found herself living in the newly formed state of West Virginia - a Union state. 

Felicity would never accuse war life of being dull, that much was certain.

\-----

_ My dearest Donna - _

_ Time is short. We are marching in Pennsylvania; tomorrow we reach a crossroads town known as Gettysburg and very possibly, we shall find our Confederate opposition. This battle… it is going to be a damned grand one. The number of men we have mustered alone tells me this shall go down in history as something of monumental import. These days, monumental import generally also equates to monumental loss of life. _

_ I will do all that I can to be safe and to keep our daughter’s husband safe as well. Give my love to Felicity and to sweet Mia. I pray that I will see you all someday very soon. _

_ Be well, dear one. _

_ Noah _

\-----

They had no word from either her father or Oliver for some time after her father’s letter, telling them of the march for Gettysburg. After reading of the bloodshed in the papers, it was all Felicity could do to keep breathing. Each day of silence only weighed her down all the more and she clung to her daughter for strength. Finally, some month and a half later, a letter from Oliver made it to the farm - both men were safe, though exhausted. 

And though weeks often passed without word from him, in her heart, Felicity knew without question that Oliver was writing to her. He had promised her his written words in lieu of his physical presence. And while it was a poor trade in many ways, each of his letters was all the more special for the infrequency with which she received them. Often they arrived out of order but each one was a boon to her war weary heart. And she wrote to him, as she had promised she would. Week after week, month after month, a river of ink ran out of her quill and onto the parchment. Even when the general store went months without new stock due to the war suffocating supply routes, Felicity still managed to write to him, tearing mostly blank pages out of books or using the backs of pages of sheet music. 

She had promised to write to him. And nothing could stop her from doing so.

Still, the sparse communication began to take a toll. And as the year 1863 drew to a close with the war still in full swing, Felicity felt the heaviness in her heart most profoundly. They celebrated Mia’s second birthday quietly at home and a week later they celebrated Christmas too, though Felicity’s mind was ever on Oliver. He had said Christmas was a time to be with family. And the figurehead of her small family was absent. 

The new year dawned bleak and grey, with snow in abundance prompting Donna and Felicity to keep the fire roaring and to limit their trips outdoors as much as they could. And so it was that Felicity came to be in her simple quarters, stealing a few quiet moments to read whilst her daughter slept beside her. 

“Felicity!” 

The urgency in her mother’s voice had Felicity nearly flying out of the room, leaving Mia sound asleep in the room the two shared. In short order, the young blonde found herself across the house and out the door, sliding to a halt beside her mother on the porch. 

“Mama?!” Felicity asked breathlessly, looking at her mother worriedly. In answer, Donna lifted one hand to point towards the road and her daughter could only follow where her mother indicated. 

Two figures were riding for the house, dressed in plain clothes and each wearing a rifle slung round their backs. As the women watched, the pair turned down the snow covered lane. Felicity reached blindly for her mother’s hand and upon finding it, the two clung to each other with obvious distress. 

“_ Please, please, please, please_,” Felicity murmured under her breath, fervently praying that they were not about to receive a notice of death for either Oliver or her father. As the two men drew nearer though, Felicity felt her fear give way to wonder. 

“Oliver,” she breathed, unable to take her eyes off of the closer of the two riders as he drew his horse up in front of the house. 

Her feet carried her without thinking and without regard for the fresh snow or the muddy earth. All she knew was that he had come home to her at last and she could not rest until he was once more in her arms. 

He scarcely had time to swing out of the saddle before she launched herself into his arms and he caught her easily, spinning her in a circle as they both laughed and wept and kissed. Felicity was quite certain her heart might burst with the joy of it all. Only after she had held his face in her hands and looked into his eyes to be sure that it was truly her Oliver in the flesh, could Felicity find the words. 

“What are you doing here?!” 

“We’ve been granted thirty days furlough, your father and I both,” Oliver explained breathlessly, his arms holding her to him without any signs that he was willing to relinquish her soon. Gaping at him in shock, Felicity turned to look past Oliver and saw that the other rider had indeed been her father and even now, her parents were embracing tenderly. 

“Thirty days?” Felicity gasped, unable to comprehend such an extensive period of leave, even in the dead of winter such as this. At most, she’d heard of ten, perhaps fifteen days. Never thirty.

“It was the condition upon which we re-enlisted. Three years more, should the war go that long. And in exchange, a thirty day furlough,” Oliver explained nervously and Felicity felt her heart fall to her feet. _ Three years_? Three more years of fretting over him every moment of every day? Three years more of Mia growing up without her father? Three years of their lives that he had agreed to without consulting her? 

Sensing her distress, Oliver released her waist in favor of holding both of her hands in his. 

“In my heart, I do not believe this war will go on another three years. We have dealt the Confederates a string of blows these last months, from the likes of which I do not believe they can recover. A year, perhaps two. But I do not believe it will go so long as three.”

His assurances, however, were poor comfort in the face of another three terrifying years. 

“In truth, I would have agreed to most any span of time for the chance to see you and hold you in my arms again. And for the chance to meet our daughter,” Oliver confessed and Felicity felt her heart swell at this declaration of affection and quickly, her anger retreated - she could be angry later. She would not waste a precious moment of his company being upset with him when she could spend that time loving him instead. 

“I have missed you most fiercely, Felicity.” Oliver whispered, his voice catching on her name. 

“And I have missed you, Oliver.” 

They kissed again and Felicity did her best to lock away her fears and sorrows. Three years was nothing, in the face of love such as theirs. If they had to endure it, they would. But she prayed such a long separation would not be in their future. 

The family reunion was forestalled by the sound of wailing coming from the house and Felicity felt herself instinctively moving towards the sound, only to pause for a moment as she turned to look at her husband.

“We can tend to the horses, son.” Felicity was surprised to see her father step towards Oliver, gently taking the reins from his son in law before he nodded towards the house with a smile. “I believe it is long past time that you met your daughter.” 

As if in a trance, Oliver nodded and, taking Felicity’s hand, he followed her to the house. And there, in the familiar walls of her childhood home, Felicity watched her small family knit together as Oliver held Mia for the first time. His eyes glowed with a reverent, all consuming love that she understood all too well as he cradled their daughter with the utmost of care, his voice choked with emotion as he spoke to her in quiet tones. 

“Hello dear one,” he cooed gently as he lifted her from the bed, cradling her against his chest even as she fussed and squirmed. And perhaps it was not the picturesque, perfect portrait she had envisioned. But in that moment, Felicity was so deliriously happy, she could have died. 

The reunited Queen-Kuttler family spent a joyous evening taking their supper and reacquainting themselves. And when they went to bed that night, Felicity and Oliver enjoyed the first sound night’s sleep either of them had had since they had parted some years previously. 

\-----

The weeks passed in a blur of almost blinding joy for Felicity. With her father and Oliver both mercifully returned, the small Queen family took their leave of the Kuttler family home, as much for the sake of Oliver and Felicity’s privacy as well as her parents’. Time was short and both couples had ample want and need for time together, though neither pair would have admitted as much aloud.

With winter in full swing and the fields lying dormant, there was little work to do around the Queen home but Oliver still found plenty to occupy his days. He and Felicity were shameless in their preference for languishing in bed until late in the morning and often, they were only wrestled apart by Mia’s cries or her loud babbles summoning them to her. 

Oliver carved her a number of toys; rattles and small figurines. His greatest creation was a tiny rocking horse which Mia was drawn to, like a moth to flame. Each evening, the family dined with Felicity’s parents and afterwards, Oliver would read passages from novels in the family library, Mia balanced on his knee. 

Normally wary of strangers, Mia took to Oliver as if she had known him all of her short life. The day she sat crying upon the floor, reaching for Oliver instead of Felicity, Felicity felt overwhelmed with gratitude. For the moment that Mia had reached for her father instead of her mother, Oliver had lit up with a transcendent joy that made Felicity feel warm and whole. 

All too soon, however, Oliver and Noah’s furlough drew to a close. 

Felicity felt world weary and broken as the two men made ready for their journey. When it came time to say goodbye, she clung to Oliver with a desperation she could scarcely control. 

“We are always saying farewell to one another… You would think I ought to be better at doing so by now,” she pointed out to him with a teary sigh and he smiled sadly before he pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“Well… let us not say farewell this time, my love.” 

And so, they did not. Not a single farewell was exchanged between them, though a bounty of kisses and gentle touches were. And when he rode away from home, he turned back to look at her, his eyes warm and reassuring and overflowing with love. And it was this same, unswerving love that saw Felicity through the days and weeks and months that followed, when the loneliness and the fear threatened to cripple her. And as winter gave way to spring, it was that same overpowering love that sustained her when she learned that she was once more pregnant with a child who would, like as not, be born before its father returned from the war. 

It was a difficult idea to bear, but bear it, Felicity did; Oliver’s love was enough to see her through most any hardship. And the idea of him returning home and taking their children, one on each arm? That was enough to power her through the multitude of hardships imposed by pregnancy and parenthood. 

Besides, Oliver would more than make amends for his absence when he finally returned home. Of that, she had no doubts. When it came to fatherhood, the man was unnaturally well gifted. 

\-----

_ My bien-aim_é_, Felicity - _

_ (That is a French term of affection I recently learned from a compatriot of mine. If I take its meaning correctly, it translates to say ‘my beloved’ or thereabouts. Appropriate, as you are my most beloved). _

_ You cannot imagine the profound joy I felt upon delivery of your letter with the wondrous news of our growing family. I love you. I love you so dearly, it takes all my strength to stay in this stifling tent as I await my orders when all my heart desires is to run to you and take you into my arms. I pray that, whatever my next orders are, they bring a swift conclusion to this damnable, everlasting war. I would love nothing more than to be at your side when our next child enters this world. _

_ I pray that you and our darling girl are well. I pray that the babe is healthy. I pray that your mother has not fallen into sorrow at your father’s absence once more, and I pray that the farms are yielding abundantly. _

_ In truth, I can barely keep my wits about me enough to write, I am so overcome with joy and not a small amount of sorrow too. I owe you apologies for so many things but allow me to say how sorry I am that we are parted during these precious months as our child grows within you. _

_ Word from you and from my commanding officer that the Union has once more taken control of Harpers Ferry was welcome news indeed. I pray this means you and our children (children - plural! I can scarcely believe it!) are that much safer now. _

_ I have recently been exchanging letters with my old friend, Thomas Merlyn. You will recall, I am sure, my speaking of him. He features so prominently in so many of my life’s stories. It has been a boon to my spirits to hear from him, to know that he yet lives on the other side of this invisible line dividing our country in two. In our written exchanges, we have come to understand each other a great deal more than we ever did before and I tell you, he is not unchanged. He has seen too clearly the evils within this war and the principles upon which it is fought. And while he still is not yet in agreement with myself on many things, the very fact that we have exchanged words - and joyously - gives me great hope that he can be made to see things as we do. _

_ Should that prove true - and I believe it will - I should like to take the name ‘Thomas’ into consideration for a boy. Thomas is the closest thing I have to a brother, after all; to name a son after him would bring him such joy, and myself as well. What are your thoughts on the name? I offer it as a suggestion only if you like it as well as I do. If not Thomas, perhaps there is something else familial we could bestow upon the child? Is there a name from your family you would see chosen? _

_ With deepest love and devotion, _

_ Your husband, Oliver _

\-----

_ My dear Son, _

_ It is my great pleasure to inform you that on this, the twenty first of September, in the wee hours of the morning, your wife was safely delivered of a son. He is a strapping young lad, and Felicity has given him the name Thomas Jonas Queen. Thomas, as you two spoke of, in honor of your friend. And as you well know, Jonas, for you - his father. He has hair as fair as corn silk and eyes as blue as the sky at midday. Already, Felicity has remarked on the resemblance he bears to you. _

_ She had intended to write to you herself but the labor was long and it taxed her greatly. And despite my attempts to help her tend to Mia as well, she insisted on caring for both children herself. Your wife, as you may have noticed by now, is a rather stubborn woman. A trait she no doubt inherited from her father. _

_ So it is that, having taken out the paper and ink, Felicity began to doze off before she had written more than the date and your name. Thus, I have taken it upon myself to write to you, that you may be informed of your new son, and have sent her off to bed that she may rest and recover. She will need her wits about her now with two children to wrestle. _

_ For now, your little family sleeps soundly in the room they share. We all eagerly await the day that you return home, that you may see Thomas for yourself and that you may marvel at how much Mia has grown (by leaps and bounds, I assure you). Be safe, my dear son. Your wife and I worry for you with each passing day. Come home soon. _

_ Your mother by law if not by virtue, _

_ Donna Kuttler _

\-----

Thomas proved to be an easy baby, insomuch as any infant could be. And while Felicity had happily honored Oliver’s request that he be named Thomas, she found herself referring to her son by his middle name of Jonas more often.

It pleased her to be ever reminded of the man who had fathered so darling a child. 

The fall of 1864 passed swiftly; news came of inspired Union victories in the Shenandoah Valley in October and in November, President Lincoln was re-elected, to Felicity’s great approval. His opponent - General George McClellan, had rejected discussions of peace with the Confederacy. And while Felicity had not wavered in her strict Unionist beliefs, she desperately wanted the war to end. She wanted her husband home. McClellan had not inspired hope in her that he would be the man to bring Oliver back to her. 

By winter, she knew from the scant letters that actually made it to the farm that her father and Oliver were marching south and had in fact, made it to Savannah, Georgia. 1865 ushered in a new sense of hope for Felicity; in February, there were attempts for peace talks. And though those talks ultimately failed, the very fact that the talks had transpired at all gave her new hope. 

Soon. Oliver would be home _ soon_. He had said he thought the war would last a year or perhaps two more. She prayed he was right. Already, it had been over a year since she had seen him. 

Spring became a frantic blur of activity. The papers were abuzz with news from the front lines. General Lee’s forces were the last remaining in northern Virginia and General Johnston, the last remaining in North Carolina. 

Her father and Oliver were both in Petersburg, arming themselves for the attack against Lee. Felicity felt no small measure of discomfort as she followed the news as closely as one possibly could, always with her heart in her throat. But no rider came and no news was sometimes good news. 

April, however, brought the sweet relief she had so desperately waited for: the Union forces had prevailed at Petersburg. A week after the battle there, General Lee surrendered. And just like that, the war - for all intents and purposes - was at an end. Some Confederate forces remained to be dealt with but the war life as they knew it was coming to a close. 

Felicity wept the day she rode into Harpers Ferry for supplies and saw the joyous news. 

It was mid-April when Felicity was nursing Jonas and trying to occupy Mia in between preparing the midday meal. She heard her mother suddenly cry out and as Felicity rushed to check on her, she saw Donna sprinting across the yard, where Felicity was delighted and surprised to see her father awkwardly staggering off of his horse. 

Her children in tow, Felicity rushed to join her mother in greeting her father, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of him. He had a thinness to him that he had lacked before; whether from marching or lack of food or sickness, she did not know. His hair had turned thoroughly gray and he sported a beard where he had only ever previously been clean shaven, in her memory. But the most jarring change was not the weight he had lost or the beard he had gained. It was the loss of his left arm from just above his elbow down. 

Felicity swept towards him, joyful tears in her eyes as she embraced him with one arm, balancing Jonas on her hip with the other. Her father wept as he tried to greet them all at once, easily outnumbered by his wife, daughter, and two grandchildren.

Though she was undoubtedly delighted by his arrival, Felicity felt a stir of unease in her breast. Her father and husband had been in the same command for much of the war and his arrival now, without Oliver, worried her. And while it was likely a simple matter of her father having been discharged due to his injury, she still could not help but inquire after her beloved. When the initial enthusiasm had calmed enough for her to voice the question, Felicity did not hesitate to do so.

“Daddy… what news is there of Oliver?” 

In truth, she knew the moment that her father turned his solemn, sad eyes upon her in earnest but her heart and her head refused to acknowledge the sorrow in his gaze.

“Felicity… I was on the field with Oliver at Petersburg. He fought with the heart of a thousand men. But… he took a bullet in the gut during the worst of the battle. One of his men came and found me not long after. We were able to bring him back to the surgeons but there was nothing for it. He… he died, Felicity.” 

Felicity shook her head, unable to accept her father’s story of Oliver’s passing. It was not possible. The war was ending. It was practically over. They were about to be together again - he could _ not _be dead. Not now. Not so close to the time when he could return to her and meet his son. 

“No. No, Daddy please, _ no_!” 

Felicity felt the world spin beneath her. A pair of hands scooped Jonas from her arms just before she began to crumple to the ground, only for her father to catch her in his arm and ease her to the dirt, whereupon he cradled her against his chest as her world shattered around her. Sorrow broke upon her with the force of a gunshot. Wave after wave of grief and disbelief and pain wracked her and all she could do was sob and give herself over to the agony. 

Oliver was dead. Her husband was gone. Her children were fatherless. And as easily as that, all the light seemed to have gone from her world. 

When she had recovered enough that her parents could usher her into the house and help her to lie down upon her bed, her father gave her the letter that had been intended for her. The story behind it moved her and broke her heart anew. 

At the war’s onset, Oliver had suggested to her father that they make a pact - both of them would write a letter, intended to be delivered to the family in the event of their death. Should one of them die and the other live, the survivor would have to ensure that the letter was delivered into the family’s hands rather than risk it being lost in the ever unreliable post. Upon Oliver’s death, Noah had retrieved Oliver’s letter and, once he was recovered enough from his own wounds to travel, the Kuttler patriarch had begun his journey to see the letter delivered safely into his daughter’s hands. 

What’s more, the letter had gone through several iterations - what she held within her hands was, in fact, the third such version Oliver had written. The first had been written the day he signed on with the Union army, when he and Felicity were newlyweds and so consumed in one another that nothing else in the world seemed to matter. The second had been drafted following Mia’s birth; the letter had been amended to include her existence and to speak to how much he treasured the daughter that had been born to them. And the third was the letter that had been delivered to her, written after news of Jonas’ birth had reached Oliver. 

It was this fateful letter which Felicity clung to in the depths of her despair, afraid to open it and make his death all the more real, and afraid to leave it unopened and deprive herself of his hand, his voice, his love. Ultimately, she summoned her bravery and decided to open the letter. There was little enough of him left in the world; she ought not to squander what precious few bits of him remained.

Her hands shook as she slowly opened the thick, cream colored paper, her eyes scanning it desperately. And there it was. His familiar hand, etched upon the paper in a dark ink. He had clearly used a cheap quill to pen the letter - ink blots appeared frequently across the page. But there was no mistaking that it was truly him. The letter outwardly looked as though it had been through the mill but thankfully, it was still legible.

Even from beyond the grave, her love found ways of surprising her.

_ My Beloved Wife, _

_ I miss you more with each day spent out of your arms. The life of a soldier is far from the glory that was sold to all of us who enlisted. I do not regret having poured myself into this war; I believe in the principles I fight for as much today as I did when all this began. But I will be all too happy when the day comes when I may lay down my arms and instead, lay with you in our bed, as I have dreamed of doing every night we have been apart. I pray that such a day will come. _

_ But, many prayers have gone unanswered in these dark times. And so, I arrive at the real purpose for this letter. _

_ If tomorrow, or next week, or next year I meet my end, I needs must put to paper the words that I shall not have the chance to say to you. Felicity, never doubt that I have loved you with my whole heart, most truly. If love were enough to keep a man alive, know that I should have lived a thousand years past eternity, so vast is my love for you. And it is because of the profound depths of this love that I must make a final request of you, one that I know will pain you as deeply as it pains me to consider. _

_ For the love I bear you, should I die in this war, I ask that you do me one final honor. Move on. Your life and the lives of our children are more precious to me than anything else in this world. I would see those lives protected and if I cannot be the man to protect you, then I would have another, deserved man step in to do so in my stead. If I die, dearest, know that I want you to take another man as husband and live a full life - for the both of us. _

_ I love you, Felicity. And I love our children. If dying is my price to pay to ensure a safer world for you three, then I will pay that price and gladly so. You are my purpose in this world and I could not have asked for anything greater than to have had you as my wife and Mia and Thomas Jonas as my children. Trust in that. Trust in the love we have shared. _

_ Know that, whatever comes with the dawn, I will carry that love with me to face it. I will see you again - be it in this life or the next. _

_ Eternally your loving husband, _

_ Oliver _

\-----

The first summer after the war was a time of celebration for many. But the Queen household was quite apart from such festivities. With the news of Oliver’s death, Felicity had been utterly shattered. And while her parents had sought to comfort and support her during the dark hours that immediately followed, there was little anyone could do. 

Jonas and Mia were the only reason she kept breathing. Even drowning in her grief, she forced herself to tend to them each day. The simple act of nursing her infant son or hugging her young daughter provided the courage she required to face each day, even feeling as if her heart had long ago stopped beating. 

In short order, she moved the small family back to the home Oliver had built for them, over the protests of her parents. With the war over and Oliver dead, there was no reason for Felicity and her children to impose upon her parents any longer. Oliver had not built her a home for it to stand empty and for the fields to sit idle. And if her children could not ever truly know their father, she would ensure they knew him from the care he had taken in building their home, from the intentional selections he had made when adding books to the family library, or from the carefully sketched plans he had made for what he dreamed their home could become. 

Her children would know their father, even if they could not know him in the manner that she had dreamed of. 

By December of that year, the Thirteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution was ratified. With it, slavery was abolished. And while Felicity was glad for the change, she could not help but wish Oliver was with her to see the world he had dreamed of come to pass. 

Time passed. Somehow, Felicity soldiered on.

\-----

July 12, 1866

\-----

Felicity sat before the mirror Oliver had bought for her as a wedding gift. Staring at her reflection, she saw precious little of the woman who had once been his wife; gone was the twinkle in her eyes that his presence sparked. Gone was the wide, easy smile that had been a permanent fixture on her face when she was in his proximity. 

She had aged a lifetime in the year since she had lost him. And while she was still not quite an old bride, she was also not a young one. She had been ever so young when she had married Oliver; gone too was her youth. 

She sighed and finished combing out her long, golden tresses as she readied herself for sleep. In truth, she ought to have been in bed hours ago but the thought of the coming day’s events had left her stomach turning uneasily. 

Tomorrow she would marry Raymond Palmer. 

It was a good match; he was a childless widower with a mercantile business of his own that, despite the war years, had managed to persist and now, in the wake of the war, had flourished. More importantly, he was a gentle and good man and he was well intentioned if bumbling with her children. She was blessed he had asked to take her as his wife. Greater women than she had struggled to find acceptable suitors in the post-war world they had found themselves in. 

But good man or no, Felicity knew deep in her heart that she was not in love with Raymond Palmer. Not by a long shot. There was not even so much as a faint echo of the feelings she had had for Oliver. When she looked at Raymond, she saw an upstanding man to be certain. But she did not see the great love of her life, or the man she wanted to spend the rest of her days with. 

As she opened a drawer in her vanity to return her hairbrush, something rattled from deeper within. Pulling the drawer further out, Felicity felt her breath catch in her throat. 

The small tintype image of Oliver stared back at her in grainy black and white, stoic and handsome and _ alive_. The very sight of him left her breathless and it was all she could do not to lose herself completely. 

With a shaking hand, she grabbed up the picture and held it before her for several long minutes before she pressed it to her breast with a tremble. Peering into her drawer, she saw the stack of letters and unable to resist, she drew them out and laid them before her.

Every letter that he had sent to her, she had saved. They were neatly stacked and tied together with a length of twine which she now, carefully undid. 

Reading through his words, she felt her heart break and stitch back together over and over again half a hundred times. Never had she doubted his love for her but to be reminded of it on this, the eve of her wedding to another man, seemed like divine intervention. How could she contemplate marriage without love when she had already known the greatest love the world had ever seen? How could she settle for anything less than the man who had set her heart and soul on fire? 

The answer, she found halfway through the stack of letters, was quite simple: 

She couldn’t. 

Oliver had asked her to remarry - that was the only reason she had even entertained the notion. But his request had been born out of fear for her protection and safety and that of their children. The small fortune he had left to her in his will would see to it that she and the children never wanted for anything. After the war, the stocks and bonds and other manner of investments he had possessed had begun to regain their value with startling speed. And with their children to raise and chase after, Felicity doubted she would want for company. The house and the land was more than enough to occupy her time. 

How could she take Raymond for a husband when her heart and soul was already eternally bound to one man and one man alone? It couldn't be done. There was nothing for it. She would have Oliver or no one. And Oliver was dead. 

Solitude would win out.

Taking out a fresh sheet of paper, Felicity began to write the words that would sever her engagement to Raymond. And though she felt deep guilt for having taken so long to come to the realization that she could not marry him, she felt buoyed by the knowledge she would not have to live a lie with him for the rest of her days. 

She was already married, body and soul. The vows she had exchanged with Oliver had not said ‘til death do us part’ but rather, ‘for as long as we both shall live’. And for as long as she was living, she carried him with her. If she was alive, he was alive inside her heart. And if their children were alive, their love was still alive. 

Raymond would have to find another to take as his wife. Felicity was a Queen, not a Palmer, and she would be forevermore. 

\-----

August 25, 1866

\-----

By the end of August, the bugs were as abundant as the stifling heat, and it was all Felicity could do to keep Mia entertained and Jonas from squalling while still managing the family home. The cows still needed to be milked, the goats and hogs needed feeding, the hens needed to be collected from, and there were yet acres of cornfields in need of picking. 

And Felicity was the only one who could do it all. Her mother was busy trying to manage the family plot of land, while Felicity’s father did all that he could to help her with only one remaining hand. She could not and would not ask them to assist her as well. This was something she would have to do on her own. 

She was alone now. This was the life of a widow in the aftermath of the war. She would manage. Somehow.

After spending her morning tending to the animals (her children included), she had worked on bringing in the corn. With Jonas swaddled against her chest and Mia alternating between playing and helping, Felicity was beyond overwhelmed. When she had the first load done, she hoisted Mia onto the horse and Felicity led the animal and its burden of goods back towards the house and the waiting corn crib. 

Satisfied with what she had accomplished and eager for an excuse to stay out of the worst heat of the day, she poured herself and Mia ample servings of cider and together, the trio took to the porch. Jonas lay contentedly upon a blanket, while Felicity and Mia sat down, fanning their skirts around them. Deeply engrossed in playing with Mia (who was animatedly telling Felicity about a raccoon she had seen near the henhouse), Felicity did not notice when a horse and rider appeared out along the road. Nor did she notice when said horse and rider turned down the lane that led to the Queen family home. 

“MAMA A HORSEY!” Mia squealed in delight, pointing enthusiastically towards the road. Felicity turned her head, following her daughter’s hand and her heart flopped and then took off racing. 

She would have recognized Oliver’s horse anywhere; the white blaze down its face shaped like an arrow was a dead giveaway. 

“Oliver,” she gasped in a voice barely above a whisper, her eyes wide as she scooped Jonas off the porch and rose to her feet, trembling as she stared at the male figure coming down the road, his face hidden by his low slung cap. Mia came to stand at Felicity’s side, her arms wrapped around her mother’s legs as Felicity put a steadying hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Felicity could scarcely breathe as the horse and rider drew to a stop just in front of the porch and the man swung down from the saddle with a feline like grace that was familiar.

Felicity felt her face split into a smile as she shook free of her doubts and disbelief. Her father had been mistaken. Oliver was alive - and he had come home to her, just as she had dreamed and prayed that he would.

A hand lifted and pulled the slouched hat away, revealing the face of the man beneath it.

“Pardon me, ma’am. My name is Thomas Merlyn. I was a close personal friend of the late Mister Oliver Queen. I was told in town that his wife and children live here… He asked me to look in on them if something were to happen to him and I… well, I could not deny my brother’s last request of me.” 

Felicity felt her heart shudder within her chest and break anew, tears springing to her eyes as she struggled to swallow back the bitter tang of disappointment on her tongue. It had been foolish to believe that, over a year removed from the war, Oliver would somehow return home to her. Her father had seen Oliver die. She knew in her heart of hearts that were he alive, he would have returned to her long before now. And yet, the hope that he was alive and riding towards her had sprang forth from her with the force of a waterfall the moment she had laid eyes on Thomas Merlyn riding upon Oliver’s horse. 

She was a fool. But love had made her this fool. And for the gratitude she bore that love, she could never be angry. 

“Well Mister Merlyn, you were told correctly. I am Felicity Queen. This is my daughter, Mia. And my son, Thomas Jonas,” she introduced them each in turn, her eyes studying the newcomer intently as she introduced Jonas. Thomas the senior swallowed, his eyes suddenly glossy as he stared at the babe on her hip with newfound sentiment. 

“Well, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintances,” he choked out finally, clearing his throat roughly. “You are every bit as beautiful as he described you.” 

Felicity closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath, trying desperately not to cry. Oliver had written to Thomas. About her. About their family. Even in death, he had sought to see them looked after. It was nothing less than she should have expected of him. 

“And you are every bit as charming as he warned me,” she responded back in an attempt at gentle teasing, which elicited a quiet laugh from the man before her. 

“He always told me I ought to use my charm more sparingly, then it might mean more,” Thomas chuckled, shaking his head. “He was right. He was right about a great many things…” He trailed off, his eyes glazed and distant for a moment before he refocused on the small family before him. “I found his horse… after. At first I brought him back to Oliver’s parents but they had no need for the animal and after I received Oliver’s letter… well. I knew I needed to bring the chap home. And I… I needed to see you to tell you that your husband was the most honorable man I ever knew. And I wish I had taken heed of the things he told me a great deal sooner. Perhaps if myself and my kin were less stubborn, this war might have been averted and Oliver might then have been on this porch beside you to greet me.” 

“He was an uncommonly good man, my husband,” Felicity agreed softly, unable to hold back the tears now quietly trailing down her cheeks. 

“The world has yet to see any man that might match him,” Thomas agreed faintly. 

The small group ushered Thomas and Oliver’s horse to the barn, where the steed returned to his former stall. Thomas then joined the small family for supper and together, he and Felicity took turns sharing their favorite stories of the man they had both cared so deeply for. 

\-----

Approximately 620,000 people lost their lives over the course of America’s bloodiest conflict, Oliver Queen among them. Historians would later discuss the great toll the war had taken on the country; the divided loyalties of friends and neighbors and even families, pitting brother against brother and father against son. Oliver Queen was a prime example of this; he entered the war knowing that his father and his friends stood opposed to him and all he fought for. What Oliver never knew though, was that the fateful bullet that ended his life was fired by the musket of a man as good as his brother. Just as Oliver had feared, Thomas Merlyn had been on the field against Oliver that day in his Confederate greys, his musket in hand. He fired at every Yankee that came between the sights of his barrel and he brought down many and injured still more. He would never know that Oliver - the man he had grown up with, whom he loved like a brother, the man who had named his firstborn son in honor of him - had been struck down by a bullet fired from Thomas’ gun

Felicity lived out the rest of her days on the land that Oliver had bought for them. His tintype photo remained proudly displayed on the mantle, where she saw it each and every day until her last. She was buried on the property and at her request, his tintype was placed between her hands before they laid her in the ground. Though life had cruelly parted them, Felicity was determined that they would rest in peace together - if not physically then at least spiritually. However, following Felicity’s broken engagement to Raymond Palmer, she never entertained the notion of marriage or a partner of any sort ever again. Though it had been Oliver’s last wish that she move on and remarry, Felicity could not bring herself to do so. And so, once more, the two star crossed souls would have to fight to be together. They would not have as long to wait this time.

Oliver was born once more in the year 1889. Felicity followed him shortly thereafter in the year 1893. And so again, their souls would seek each other out, determined to try again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys. This one ran away with me. This chapter is BEYOND long. Sorry! Be aware, this is also the chapter for which the story gets its mature warning. ;)

Oliver Queen had only been on board the RMS Titanic for all of an hour before he was going completely stir crazy in First Class. There were many perks to being a well-to-do American on board a luxury ship in Europe. None of those perks could properly be enjoyed, however, when he was rubbing elbows with his parents and their high society friends. 

And so, as soon as he was able to slip away, Oliver Queen found himself in the Second Class section of the ship, keenly navigating his way to the smoking room. If there was a card game afoot, it would be there, where the gents would be smoking and the cash would be flowing - and if he was lucky, the banter would be too. When he played with the First Class folks, he had to behave himself and be mindful of who he won against (and how much). But in Second Class he could go for broke. And he did. Routinely. It was his go-to move anytime the family traveled by ship nowadays.

But instead, when he arrived at the room in question, he found only a smattering of men spread out across the room, lazily smoking with not a single card to be seen. Surely this was not possible; the ship had pushed off from Southampton with some nine hundred passengers aboard, to hear the ship’s crew tell it. There was no conceivable way in his mind that none of the Second Class men were interested in a game of cards. 

Glancing around at the few inhabitants of the room, Oliver decided to try his luck. 

“Anyone fancy a game of cards?”

A few heads lifted to look at him and the quick shakes that he got back in response were not heartening. One man in particular however, chuckled whilst he shook his head and pointed lazily towards another part of the ship.

“You’ll want to head for the Dining Saloon.” 

The dining saloon?! What madness was this? He’d snuck into Second Class on plenty of occasions on past trips and never once had he needed to go to the dining saloon to find a healthy game of cards underway. 

Nodding even as he grumbled inwardly, Oliver slipped out from the Smoking Room and made his way to the indicated Dining Saloon, on D Deck. When he arrived, he found that the buzz of activity he had expected in the smoking room was present and accounted for here. In fact, the gathered crowd was downright _ rowdy _. The reason for that became quickly apparent to him.

At the table sat a mismatched group of men and most surprisingly, a lone woman. As Oliver watched, it became apparent that the game was Blackjack. And what’s more? The pretty young blonde woman? She was positively sweeping the floor with these men. Oliver watched as the next game unfolded and in spectacular fashion, she beat each of her opponents. 

Were these men all novices? What was the issue? How was she cleaning up against all of them? He’d never seen a woman playing cards like this. What was she playing at? 

“Deal me in,” Oliver instructed as he elbowed his way to the table, all too eager to show the pretty blonde (and these Second Class gents) a thing or two about cards. The blonde in question didn’t even so much as lift her eyes. 

“Are you so eager to lose your money?” 

“I don’t believe that I will. But if I do, I’ll manage,” he retorted smoothly as he slid into a seat at the table, watching intently as the blonde shuffled with what could only be described as extreme flair. By the time she passed the deck off to the man acting as dealer, even Oliver had to admit, he was impressed. And rather aroused; it wasn’t every day that a man got to watch a pretty woman handle cards with such finesse. But pretty or not, he was still going to wipe the floor with her. 

“If you’ve got the scratch, it’s yours to lose,” she shot back with more than a hint of snark and Oliver could only shake his head in amusement. Time would prove to her just how wrong that comment was. 

As the dealer began to divvy up the cards, Oliver kept his eyes trained on the blonde, but she never once looked up from him, too busy studying the cards as they landed on the table. Shaking his head, Oliver tried to shift his attention from the woman to the cards at hand. He couldn’t very well beat her if he was too busy ogling her to actually mind the game going on before him.

As things progressed, Oliver was delighted to see that the blonde landed with a pair of 8s against the dealer’s Joker. Smirking, Oliver nodded. The dealer had a strong up card and in his memory, Oliver couldn’t recall many times in which a player with a pair of 8s won against such a strong card. The blonde bit her lower lip, her brow furrowed in deep concentration and Oliver couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at the seeming indecision on her face. 

“Do you need some help over there, _ poulette?” _Oliver purred with a low chuckle at his own heckling, even if she didn’t know enough French to know what he had said. In response, she seemed to frown and then, just as quickly, her face relaxed into a smile. 

“Split them for me Richard?” She asked sweetly and with a nod, the dealer consented. Oliver felt his brows lift. She was splitting? That… well, that was a bold move. But now she’d just be losing two hands, when all was said and done. 

“Hit me,” she directed calmly and Oliver watched coolly as the dealer acquiesced. A 5 card landed atop her pile and she nodded, her finger tapping the table top. “Hit me again.” Intrigued, Oliver watched with interest as the dealer did so and a 6 landed atop the pile, bringing her to a very respectable 19. 

Turning to the second 8 card, she tapped the table top again.

“Hit me.” 

The dealer laid down the next card - a 2. Oliver smiled. But his smile was short lived.

“Hit me.” 

The next card was an ace and as soon as it was face up on the table, the crowd around Oliver erupted into cheers and hoots and hollers. Meanwhile, his jaw dropped open in complete and utter shock. 

“Blackjack!” The dealer announced crisply, flipping over the hole card to reveal an eight. And just like that, Oliver watched as the winnings went squarely to the blonde, who accepted the rumpled dollar bills and the jangling coins gratefully from the dealer. Flabbergasted by his thorough _ trouncing, _Oliver could only gawk. A moment ago he’d been a shoo in to win the hand, sitting handily on his Queen and Joker. The next? He was watching the petite blonde glory in her victory as she rose to her feet, grinning at the crowd jovially. 

“Well gents, this girl’s got places to be and people to see. But you will deal me in the next time I come by, won’t you now?” 

A few loud whoops of approval indicated that the crowd would be only too willing to see a repeat performance. Grinning, she excused herself and Oliver found himself rising to trail after her, still in awe of her playing. Never had he seen a woman play cards so calm, cool, and collected. She’d acted as if Blackjack was the most natural thing in the world for her. 

As she disappeared into the hallway he followed after her at a brisk trot, determined not to lose her. As she rounded a turn, he called out.

“Miss! Excuse me, Miss! Please wait!” 

As he slid around the corner to follow after her though, he crashed into her as she tried to turn back around in response to his summons. There was a quiet yelp as the collision knocked her off her feet. Mortified, he blinked down at her in surprise and then quickly offered her his hand to help her up. 

“I am so sorry, let me help you, please.” 

A single, manicured hand slipped through his and when her face lifted, Oliver felt a surge of energy pass through his body when her eyes met his. As though his body were a lightning rod, a line of electric heat seemed to trace from his toes, up his spine, and fanned out across his fingers. He felt something in him unconsciously stir and it was all he could do to breathe as he stared at the pair of sea blue eyes looking up at him.

\-----

Felicity knew she shouldn’t have done it. But she hadn’t been able to resist. Before her shift started, she’d wanted to explore the ship a bit further. While she had the layout committed mostly to memory (her brain had an aptitude for such things, she’d found), learning the ins and outs of the ship was bound to come in handy. So, she’d left her crowded crews quarters and roved Second Class. It had seemed like a safe bet. As the First Class Stewardess, she didn’t want to risk running into her future patrons, but nor did she want to deal with the crowded, more confined spaces of Steerage. 

And so, Second Class had been where she found herself. And true to form, she’d asked around about cards and managed to gather a group to play in the Dining Room, she herself not being allowed in the Smoking Room, where such things usually transpired. The group had quickly attracted attention and suddenly she’d been at the heart of a rather rowdy crowd of men as she racked up win after win. 

When the cocky young man had joined the group, she hadn’t spared a glance his way, too busy focusing on the cards to care. If she took her eyes from the cards, she might miss something important. And card counting was something she took very seriously. 

Besides, Felicity was accustomed to men coming at her with arrogance and swagger, only to leave all the poorer for it a few hands later. And he had been no different - or so she’d thought as the first hand came to a close. Having caught sight of the time, Felicity had realized she really needed to go. She was due to report to the First Class rooms she was overseeing shortly and she needed time to change still. Excusing herself, she’d ducked away hurriedly, until she’d heard a voice calling out after her. When she’d turned to see who was calling her though, she’d collided face first into something solid and that had sent her spilling to the floor with a yelp of surprise (and honestly, a little bit of pain too). 

From a tangled heap on the ground, she groaned softly, fairly certain she had bruised _ something _ in the fall. She heard a voice above her offer help and she blinked as a hand appeared before her and she took it swiftly. But when her eyes traced up to the face that went with the hand, Felicity felt her whole body pulse. 

It was the young man who had caught the tail end of her card game. His eyes held hers with a magnetic capacity and she could feel her heart flutter in response. Her whole body vibrated with some echo of familiarity as she stared into his stormy blue gaze and for a moment, Felicity forgot to breathe. It was as if every particle of her being was aflame; her heart was drumming in her ears and her blood seemed to heat the longer she looked at him. 

She’d only ever experienced a similar sensation once in all her life and even then, it hadn’t been as strong as this. It had happened when she had still been living in America. Felicity had been in West Virginia, passing through a small town while traveling by railcar and the train had stopped to offload some passengers and cargo. Seizing the opportunity to stretch her legs, Felicity had gotten off and walked around the small town of Harpers Ferry. 

Then, similar to now, she’d bumped into the woman, who had turned around to look at her. Blonde, with a fierce quality about her, she was the sort who ordinarily would have intimidated Felicity. But instead, when the two of them locked eyes, that same feeling of familiarity had passed through Felicity, like a warm wind that had made her feel instantly calm and at ease, as if the two of them knew each other somehow, on some deeper level. Felicity had never met that woman before then and she had never met this man before now. But she could not deny that something about him drew her inexplicably in and made her want to be near him. 

Ordinarily she would have written him off - his cocky behavior in the card game wasn’t particularly endearing and nor was the stink of money that dripped off of him. Yet, when she looked into his eyes, Felicity knew deep in her soul that something about him was different and that she could not write him off so soon.

As he pulled her to her feet, Felicity felt breathless and a little dizzy. Her body was still tingling from head to toe as if fireworks had gone off everywhere beneath her skin, sparking and setting her body on fire. And judging by the enamored gleam in his eye, she was not alone in that regard. 

“My apologies,” he murmured and his voice was both familiar and brand new and right away she loved the sound of it. “I just… I did not want to let you leave without commending you. I have never seen anyone play cards like that. You have a talent.” He explained dazedly as he continued to stare at her with an all consuming focus.

“T-Thank you,” she stammered back, offering him a shy smile. “It’s not often that I receive a compliment from a man I’ve bested in cards.” She teased gently and in response he beamed at her and Felicity thought she might die because his smile? It was _ gorgeous. _

“Perhaps you haven’t been associating with the right sort,” he offered teasingly and she gave a soft laugh.

“Perhaps not.” 

There was a moment’s silence as the two continued to hold each other’s gaze and then he stirred and Felicity realized she was still holding his hand. Embarrassed to be making such a fool of herself, she let go of his hand grudgingly, though she still held fast to his gaze. 

“I’m Oliver,” he rumbled proudly and she felt her heart rate spike a little. She liked his name. _ Oliver. _It suited him. It was handsome and dashing, proper but not so proper as to be stiff. Somehow she gathered all of that also applied to him, though she had no basis for such a notion. Distantly, she felt her brain trying to pull her out of the utterly gobsmacked haze she was in but Felicity didn’t want to be ripped away from Oliver.

She liked being lost in his eyes. 

“Felicity. My name. I-It’s Felicity,” she babbled, too swept up in staring at him to form coherent thoughts. Again, he smiled, this time more widely, enough for the smile to really reach his eyes and she felt a little tremor in her knees. God, he was good looking. 

“Felicity. What a pleasure to have met you. Are you staying aboard the Titanic all the way to America, or will you be leaving us in France or Ireland?” His tone was abundantly hopeful and it made her heart stutter and then take off racing at the idea that he _ wanted _her to stay on all the way to America. 

“I’m bound for America,” she confessed, though inwardly her mind screamed at her that this was a mistake. He thought she was a passenger, he didn’t know she was crew. She could not afford to lose this job and if he decided to complain about a crew member fraternizing with the passengers, she could get into all sorts of trouble. But Felicity couldn’t find it in her to care with those steel blue eyes staring at her as if he could see into her very soul. 

“Excellent, I am as well. Perhaps we can see each other again. And then, you could tell me where in the world you learned to play Blackjack like that.” Oliver teased and she ducked her head to try and hide her blush (albeit unsuccessfully). 

“I’m afraid it’s a rather unimpressive story. I learned from my father. My mother developed a knack for reading a table after working in casinos back in America but my father… he had a gift for reading the cards that had nothing to do with work experience and everything to do with him being too smart for his own good…” Felicity trailed off with a shrug, feeling suddenly silly for having given away far too much personal information. That had been entirely more than Oliver had likely wanted to know. Wincing inwardly, she glanced back up at him, only to find that he was still studying her with charmed intensity. 

“So you’re American then?” 

Felicity bit her lip at this, trying to decide how much to offer by way of explanation. But another glance at him made her whole body quiver and she found herself spilling her guts in a heartbeat. 

“Technically, yes. My father’s American, my mother’s British. She moved to America for him and they had me but after he left us, she moved us back to England to be closer to her family.” 

“And now you’re going back to America?” Oliver queried and Felicity rolled her shoulders in a little shrug. 

“I want to do good in the world. And to do that, I need to _ see _the world. The Titanic seemed as good a way of doing that as any. France. Ireland. The Atlantic ocean, all in one fell swoop. It seemed a treat.” 

“I see.” Oliver beamed, his eyes tracing hungrily across her face. “Well, would it count as bettering the world if you taught me how to play Blackjack as well as you do? I could stand to take lessons, it seems.” 

At this, Felicity smirked.

“Maybe if your luck holds I’ll tell you the next time I see you.” 

“So you agree that there will be a next time?” Oliver commented, very nearly making her stagger as he stole her breath away with what was, honestly, not all that impressive a line. And yet here she was, fighting to keep her composure. What was it about him that had her all atremble?! 

“I hope so,” she grinned at him. And then, without another word she hurried off, keenly aware that she was going to be late but unable to find the energy to be upset about it. _ Oliver. _The name seemed to stir something low in her gut but she could not for the life of her place it. 

Whoever he was, she certainly hoped that over the coming voyage, she’d encounter him again. Even now, she could still feel her stomach doing happy little somersaults as the warm glow of his presence slowly faded. Something about him told her she was meant to cross paths with him. Call it fate, call it destiny, call it sheer beginner’s luck. Whatever the case was, Felicity was inordinately pleased with the hand life had dealt her today. 

\-----

Oliver had watched her go, still so utterly thunderstruck that he could not even find the words to call out to her to try and persuade her to stay. Her last words to him rang in his ears. _ I hope so. _She wanted to see him again. Why that simple fact filled him with so much joy, he could not have said. But as he ambled along the Second Class accommodations, Oliver was so thoroughly delighted that he lost all track of time.

_ Felicity. _An appropriate name for a woman that had, in one brief interaction, charmed him and made him smile so freely. 

Eventually, he found his way back to First Class, though he took a detour through the bridge on his way. His parents were well acquainted with both Ismay and Morgan, the two spearheads of the White Star Line. As such, it had been made abundantly clear upon the family’s arrival that the Queens were welcome to go wherever they wished aboard the ship. Oliver intended to take full advantage of that freedom, as he had already done by venturing into Second Class, regardless of his First Class ticket. 

Wandering back to his suite, which adjoined both his parents accommodations on one side and his sister’s on the other, Oliver was already itching to track down Felicity when his sister swept into the room, atwitter with excitement. 

“Oliver, the Stewardess has just told me that the First Class rooms are all decorated in different period styles! Our suites are in the Queen Anne style, but there’s also Georgian and Louis XVI!” Thea exclaimed animatedly as she hurried into the room, her face positively aglow with excitement. Though he did not share his sister’s interest in the decor, Oliver flashed her a smile.

“Is that so? Marvelous.” 

“It is! She’s a wealth of knowledge, our Stewardess. I’m telling you. She’s positively a gem!” Thea remarked, glancing behind her and then doing a double take when she saw no one standing there. “Where’s she gone? Hold on, let me fetch her. Just wait Oliver, she knows absolutely everything there is to know about the ship, I’m sure of it.” 

Oliver nodded disinterestedly, throwing himself down upon one of the opulent sitting chairs as he waited for his sister’s return. Checking his pocket watch, he groaned. It was scarcely mid afternoon. They still weren’t due to reach France for another few hours and already he was bored. Dressing for and attending dinner and the laborious social rigors that would be demanded of him held no allure. He truly wanted nothing more than to resume his conversation and the game of cards with the girl from earlier but he doubted he’d be able to find her on so large a ship as this. Still, he was game to try. 

It was about then that Thea marched back into his room, the Stewardess trailing dutifully behind her as she did so.

“Oliver, this is our Stewardess, Felicity. Felicity, this is my brother, Oliver. He’s rather a goop, but do tell him what you told me, about the pool!” 

“There is a pool aboard the ship, filled with heated sea water. It is available to men and women First Class Passengers at separate times. I can bring you the times each day of the voyage, if you are interested in taking a swim.” 

Oliver felt every hair on his body stand on end as his sister said the name of their Stewardess and the familiar voice filled the room. His eyes swung to find the source seemingly of their own accord, wild with desire to lay eyes on her again.

And there she was, her appearance much changed from a scant hour or so earlier; dressed in a dark spun dress, with a starched white cap, collar, and apron. Her hair was pinned tightly back, her eyes downcast as she spoke with measured words and an air of careful restraint that had definitely been absent in their brief conversation earlier. Somehow, the rigid constructs of her position left her looking younger than she had before, as though the dress and apron had swallowed her, like a girl playing dress up in her mother’s clothes. 

But though young, she was no child and the clothes were most assuredly her own.

Oliver was momentarily at a loss for words as he studied her, silently begging her to lift her gaze to meet his. The memory of the physical reaction he had experienced upon their last meeting still fresh in his mind, Oliver rose from his seat and drew nearer as he swallowed repeatedly in an attempt to find his voice. 

“Tell me, where would a young fellow be able to take lessons in the art of Blackjack from an accomplished card aficionado?” Oliver queried, his eyes twinkling as he saw her body stiffen in shock before her eyes rose and locked on his. He could see the surprise sweep across her features and just as quickly, she schooled her expression and tried to remain calm, though the noticeable rise of scarlet in her cheeks told him she was having a reaction of her own to seeing him again. The very idea sent a thrill down his spine. 

“The First Class Smoking Room generally is a place where gentlemen can find or entice others into starting a game of cards,” she murmured deferentially, her eyes flicking nervously to Thea before sliding back towards Oliver.

“I find my competition there to be regrettably lacking in skill. I would sooner learn from an accomplished card hand. Is there anything else that could occupy me?” 

The blush in her cheeks deepened and Oliver gloried in it even as she cleared her throat to speak.

“The ship is equipped with squash courts as well as a gymnasium that is outfitted with everything from a bicycle to an electric horse to a rowing machine. There is also an elevator to assist you in traversing the ship, and two separate grand staircases both of which have glass domes, so you can take in some sun from the comfort of the indoors, if you please. But as for accomplished card hands, I’m afraid there are no professionals under the employ of the White Star Line aboard the Titanic this evening. Perhaps after we take on passengers in France, you might find such a person.”

She gave him a pointed look then and he grinned at her, hoping that he took her meaning correctly. Was she going to have time to herself when the ship docked? Free time which he could spend with her, outside of work?

If that was her meaning, he certainly hoped that was the case and he hadn’t misunderstood. Because already, he was excited at the thought of stealing some time with her. 

“Thea, you’re right. She’s a veritable wealth of knowledge. Felicity, was it?” Oliver couldn’t help but seize the opportunity to be introduced to her once more. Her eyes landed on his as he held out a hand and awkwardly, she shook it. 

“Y-Yes. Felicity. Smoak. At your service.” 

“Enchanted.” Oliver pressed a kiss to her gloved hand then and bowed a bit before her, only for Thea to shove him out of the way with an exasperated sigh.

“Oh enough, you! Never you mind him, Felicity. He’s a rotten tease, my brother. He does the same thing to me all the time. He means it to be endearing, though I don’t think he quite understands the meaning of the word,” Thea tutted as she took Felicity’s arm through hers. 

“Oh Thea, you wound me. I am well acquainted with what it is to be ‘endearing’,” Oliver remarked, his eyes on Felicity. “But all the same, I had best go contemplate the meaning of the word. I’ll be on the deck. I want to watch us dock in France. If you need me, look for me there,” Oliver explained with a barely suppressed grin. 

“Goodbye!” Thea remarked without interest. And before Oliver could leave, his sister had dragged Felicity away, much to Oliver’s chagrin.

Still. There were worse things. And having Felicity as their stewardess? Well, Oliver thought that was rather a good sign for the voyage to come. If he’d been looking for a good omen, he’d just found it in her presence here, as the first class stewardess to himself and his family. 

\-----

She’d nearly forgotten to breathe when she’d seen it was _ him _in the room and the way his face had lit up at the sight of her certainly hadn’t helped manners. After all, air seemed to matter little when her blood was positively buzzing with heated energy at the mere sight of him so soon after their first meeting. 

_ Of course _ he was one of the passengers she was meant to tend to during the voyage. Because that was life; it had a cruel sense of humor. She’d been amazed when he had seemed unfazed to see her in her work uniform and even more amazed when he’d asked about playing cards. 

Not only was he not outing her for having mingled with the second class passengers, but he was actually… looking to see her again?! Was he _ mad?! _

He had to be. But judging by the way his eyes glittered and he maintained a soft, easy smile the whole time he looked at her, he was serious. When she answered his question, she did her best to layer in a hidden invitation; when the Titanic docked in Cherbourg, she’d have a brief window of time where she was not due to service the rooms or wait on the passengers. If he really was serious, he could find her then. She gave him a pointed look, hoping to convey the deeper meaning behind her words without tipping off his sister.

Felicity wasn’t sure why she was doing this; it was absolutely ludicrous to think he had any real, genuine, and lasting interest in her. She was just a stewardess and he was an heir, the _ Queen _heir, no less. She’d heard enough from the other stewards and stewardesses to know the Queens were among some of the richest passengers on board the Titanic. To say he was out of her social class was an understatement.

And yet…

The look in his eyes when he watched her told her that he did not care about the class she came from. The way his lips held a smile so effortlessly told her he genuinely enjoyed her presence and she felt likewise about him.

So why not throw caution to the wind? 

She was nearly nineteen, enjoying the freedoms of a job that would, in time, carry her around the world to places she had never dreamed she would see. If she was not going to behave a little freely now, then when? 

His pointed comments as to where he could be found further reaffirmed what she suspected - he wanted to see her. He was trying to tell her how to find him. 

Even as his younger sister towed her from the room, Felicity felt her eyes lingering on him as she went. She knew the risks were high if she was going to try and meet him on the deck later - there would be plenty of people watching and it would be no small thing to meet up with him later - if she could find him… perhaps that would be her sign. Her sign that going with him, giving in to the strange sense of trust and familiarity he elicited, was okay, was more than okay, was _ fated. _Perhaps that was girlish of her to think, but think it she did. 

If she _ could _ find him later… she _ would _interact with him.

\-----

Aside from the Queen family, Felicity had a handful of other passengers to tend to and she did so as attentively and yet quickly as she could while the ship steamed for France. One couple had a small dog accompanying them and though Felicity knew they were supposed to be kept on the F Deck in the kennels, the husband and wife duo had been very clear that they were not willing to put their dog belowdecks and they would be very displeased if anyone tried to enforce such a rule upon them.

Felicity was a smart enough girl to know better than to trifle with the pair and had turned a blind eye. As such, this meant she was also responsible for tending to (and cleaning up after) the dog. Thankfully, the couple at least tipped her generously for her efforts. 

Having done a lap through all of the rooms she was responsible for, she found her feet leading her back to the Queen rooms. With an unassuming knock, she was admitted entrance with a curt ‘Enter’ and she found herself face to face with none other than Moira Queen - Oliver’s mother and the passenger she had been forewarned about by her boss, Mister Steele. 

“Hello Mrs. Queen. I wanted to check in and see if you had need of anything before the ship docks in France.” 

Felicity did her best to be unassuming and attentive but Moira Queen made her skin prickle with unease; something about the woman had an edge and an air of danger that screamed she was not to be trifled with. The blonde woman in question turned to regard her with calculating eyes and after a very long, drawn out wait, she finally responded. 

“I want tea brought to my room before we make landfall. And send my daughter in to take tea with me when it arrives. That’s all,” Moira shooed her away with a bored wave of her hand and Felicity quickly took her leave. 

She saw to Mrs. Queen’s demands of tea hastily and when she brought the gleaming silver tray laden with tea fixings into the Queen quarters, Moira had not so much as a word of thanks. Not even when Felicity fetched Thea did she receive so much as a nod of approval. 

Clearly Moira Queen was not the sort of passenger predisposed to be grateful to her stewardess. 

Very Well. Felicity could handle that. But for now? For now she was free to be left to her own devices while the ship took on passengers in France. Which meant that now? Now she could seek out Oliver on the decks. 

She hurried up to the deck in question and her eyes scanned the length of it in search of him. It had been some time since he had departed his family’s quarters - he might have grown bored and gone back inside. But even as she looked, Felicity felt certain that he had not left. She simply hadn’t found him yet. 

After a prolonged search that still had not yielded returns, she paused to grasp the railing and looked out at the mainland just a short ferry trip away. The Titanic was far too massive for the docks of Cherbourg to accommodate and so she had anchored in deeper waters and the passengers and cargo meant for the Titanic would be ferried over. 

Felicity watched the ensuing activity as the necessary measures were taken by the Titanic’s crew to ready the ship when suddenly a familiar voice rang out, his breath gusting by her ear. 

“I see you also decided to watch the ship dock. Thinking of going ashore?”

She spun around and found him standing just behind her, his eyes alight with mischief as he studied her. Pressing her lips together, Felicity shook her head and exhaled slowly.

“No. I couldn’t possibly. I just wanted to watch. Besides, I had reason to think there might be pleasant company up here.” 

Oliver smiled faintly but tilted his head to the side in puzzlement as he watched her. 

“We’re in France… Are you truly telling me you do not have even the slightest desire to go ashore and explore? I thought you said you wanted to see the world?” 

“I haven’t the foggiest knowledge of the language or the city! And I am _ working _ , or have you forgotten? I can’t just _ go. _” Felicity gestured pointedly to her Stewardess garments and Oliver rolled his shoulders in a carefree shrug.

“I know enough French to get us by and I have been to Cherbourg before; I know the city. And if you take off your apron and cap, no one will be the wiser. Please, Felicity. This is _ France _we are speaking of! The food and wine alone should be justification enough. This is the home of the most romantic city on Earth!” 

“Oliver Queen, are you trying to seduce me?” 

She’d meant it to sound teasing but as he spun back to face her, there was a new spark in his eyes and his features were set in a serious slope as he drew nearer. His hand touched lightly on hers and his face split into a soft smile.

“Yes. That is precisely my intention. Is it working?” 

Felicity was taken completely aback by his response and for a time, she could do no more than stare up at him in wide eyed surprise. 

“Keep trying, it just might be,” she finally breathed back, joy blossoming within her as he gave her a boyish grin and offered her his hand. 

“Felicity, will you go to France with me?” 

This was foolish. This was a mistake. She scarcely knew him. She could get caught. She could get fired. But this was _ France _they were talking about. When would she ever get another chance to explore the docks of Cherbourg - and with Oliver no less?!

“Yes.” 

It fell from her lips before she could stop herself and in an instant, Oliver’s hand enclosed around her own and led her down to where the ferries were being employed to bring the passengers to and from the ship. It ate up some of the precious little time at their disposal as they waited to be ferried to the port, but Felicity knew that the ferrying system would also prevent the onboarding passengers from being loaded quickly. All told, they probably had at most two hours before the ship shoved off. 

And Felicity intended to make good use of that time. 

Using her free hand to wrench her cap off, she set about fussing with the ties of her apron as she waited patiently beside Oliver. As soon as she had her apron free, she wrenched it off over her head and Oliver grinned as he held out his hand for it. Wordlessly, he took her apron and cap and folded them neatly before he tucked them beneath one arm. 

By the time the ferry reached the docks, Felicity was nearly leaping out of her skin with excitement. As the little boat came to a stop, Oliver offered her his arm politely. 

“Mademoiselle,” he murmured and she could tell by the lilt in his voice he was being tongue in cheek, but kindly so. They were in France, after all. And he apparently intended to act like it. She slid her arm through his uncertainly, unaccustomed to such genteel behavior but delighted by it nonetheless. 

“Where are we going? We don’t have long before the ship shoves off, Oliver!” Felicity reminded him warily and in response, the corners of his lips twitched. 

“I promise, we will be back before the ship leaves port. We are not going terribly far. Just far enough to show you how beautiful the world can be.” 

What kind of line was that? She knew the world was full of beautiful places. That was one of the reasons she was so keen to travel it. The problem was, she was simply too poor to afford to do so by any means other than working aboard a ship such as the Titanic. 

They moved quickly through the bustling port of Cherbourg and Felicity could not help but marvel at the hive of activity around them. New as she was to life aboard the ship, the never ending action that surrounded the arrival of each ship still dazzled her. Oliver, however, was numb to it, as well traveled as he was, and he led them swiftly from the port proper and out toward the waiting city. Just as they were about to depart the port, however, she tugged on his hand, drawing him to a stop. 

“What’s that, Oliver?” 

Before them, a monument of a man on horseback stood atop a stone pedestal surrounded by a short bit of fencing. Both man and horse had a regal bearing about them and the man, gesturing before him authoritatively, seemed noble in the extreme. 

Oliver followed the direction her hand pointed and, catching sight of the statue, he frowned in thought. 

“Ah...He was that French military figure… What was his name…” Oliver trailed off, deep in thought and Felicity brightened with realization.

“Napoleon?! That’s a statue of Napoleon Bonaparte?!” 

Her lips parted in surprise as Oliver nodded and she could only turn back to look at the figure with newfound appreciation. Here was a historical figure she had learned of during her schooling, honored in stone in the country he had fought for. It was as if a historical text had come to life before her and Felicity was flabbergasted. 

“Oliver, this… This is _amazing!” _Felicity marveled in a hushed tone, turning back to look at him with eyes positively aglow with joy. “Napoleon he… he was an _imperator _around the time period of the French Revolution! He was the first emperor of France. He was one of the greatest military minds the world has ever seen. And that’s _his _statue?! I’m looking at a statue of _the _Napoleon!” She gushed in slack jawed wonder as she towed Oliver closer, drinking in the sight of the finely crafted statue. 

“I take it you are familiar with French history, then?” 

“I am familiar with world history. I just never thought I’d live to see any of it in person,” she confessed, still staring upward in wonder. In response, he just shook his head in amusement and tugged on her arm, leading her away from the statue that guarded the port and into the waiting city beyond. 

Cherbourg rose around them, a teeming hive of people and horses and automobiles. Felicity felt as though her head might pivot off her neck, so quickly was she looking from side to side, afraid to miss a bit of it. Whatever nerves she’d felt about disembarking vanished in the face of the beautiful city around them. The foreign strains of conversation in a different language pricked at her ears and left her listening intently with not so much as a clue as to what was being said. 

The language was as beautiful as the city, Felicity quickly found. It had a musical quality to it and the words seemed to flow smoothly out of the mouths of the people speaking it. Listening to it was like hearing poetry come to life. She could have lost herself in it. But then, Oliver’s lips brushed against her ear and she ceased to notice anything but him.

“Regrettez-vous cette escapade, ou avais-je raison de vous détourner du droit chemin?”

Felicity’s skin prickled into delighted goosebumps at the sound of his voice as he spoke to her in French and when he had finished, she turned to look at him delightedly. 

“What did you say?” Her voice was soft with both wonder and, she would admit, more than a touch of attraction. Only too happy to translate, Oliver leaned in close to her once again.

“Do you regret getting off of the ship or was I right to lead you astray?” 

A shiver drew down her spine and Felicity found herself leaning conspiratorially into him, rising to the tips of her toes to try and whisper back to him in _ his _ ear. 

“I only regret not agreeing to go with you sooner. You were right - it’s magnificent. I love it.” 

“Wait until you see the best part.” 

Oliver winked and whisked her onward, stopping at a little storefront to purchase a small quantity of bread and cheese, which they ate as they strolled and heaven help her, Felicity owed him a thank you. He had been right. This detour had been worth it for the food alone. The fact that she was here, with _ him _, in this gorgeous city? It only further tipped the scales in favor of having undertaken this illicit adventure. 

“Alright. This… _ This _is why I brought you here,” he confessed as they rounded another corner and Felicity found herself face to face with a gorgeous expanse of greenery. 

“What is this place?” Felicity gasped in wonder as they entered into the park, every inch of it a wonder. Even now, in the beginnings of spring, it was lush with greenery and flowers aplenty. A pond drew her eye, the surface dotted with water lilies of vibrant hues and Felicity could not help but be in awe. 

“This is Emmanuel-Liais Park; the public garden of Cherbourg. He was a mayor here, once. And he was a botanist from… I think, Brazil. Anyway this? It’s my favorite place in the city.” 

Never had she seen such beauty as this. She had lived her life up to this point in densely crowded cities beneath a haze of smog. But here, just a short jaunt from the Cherbourg port, was a botanical jewel the likes of which she would never have known, if not for Oliver. 

Turning to face him she rushed forward and pressed a kiss to the side of his face. 

As soon as she’d done it, she grew rigid, realizing she might have overstepped her bounds. But in response, Oliver touched a hand to his cheek, looking pleasantly dazed as he smiled down at her. 

“I take it you find the garden to your liking?” 

“To my liking? Oliver it… it’s _ beautiful _. Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” Felicity queried breathlessly, spinning around to take in every angle of the place before she came to a stop before him. 

His eyes were trained intently upon her, the dazed look now gone and replaced with one of sincerity and appreciation. 

“The garden is lovely. But I can think of at least one thing that far surpasses it in beauty.” 

Felicity felt heat rising in her cheeks and she fought back a smile, instead opting to challenge him on what was, she was certain, not his first use of such a line.

“Do you tell that to all the women you bring here?” 

He faced her without guile, his expression open and honest. 

“I’ve said similar things to other women, I admit it. But I’ve never meant it before now. And I’ve never shared this place with anyone else. Only you.” 

She had been prepared for him to try and cover his use of such a daffy line but instead, he’d wowed her in a way she wasn’t expecting and she found herself clamming up before him.

He had never shared this - his favorite place in the city - with anyone else before. Felicity could not help but be touched by that sentiment. And while he certainly could have been lying, the look in his eyes made her believe that he was being truthful. She trusted him, inexplicably. 

They toured the gardens, just the two of them. Oliver took her through the greenhouses and up to the top of the observation tower. As they stared down at the verdant expanse of plant life below, Felicity found she could no longer contain herself.

“Oliver… Why did you ask me to come here with you?” 

Taken slightly aback, he stared at her, his brow creased in a frown of concentration. 

“People know the Queen name. They treat me differently because of it. You… you don’t. You are the first person who has seen me as a… a _ person, _ and not just my family name or a bank account in… Well. In quite some time.” At this he shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously and Felicity waited patiently as he searched for words. 

“I don’t know who exactly I am outside of being the heir to my family’s money and company. But I would like to discover more about that person… With your help.” 

“Really? You want… you want _ my _help? But…I’m just a Stewardess.” 

“Felicity, you are many things. ‘Just a stewardess’ is not one of them. Really.” 

Silence lapsed between them then and Felicity found it somehow, deeply reassuring. Wordlessly, she offered him her hand. He stared at it in surprise, eventually lifting his gaze to her face in disbelief before he slid his hand through hers, his palm tingling at the warmth of her touch. 

“Come on, Oliver. We have to get back. The ship will shove off soon.” 

\-----

When they made it back on board the Titanic, Oliver and Felicity parted ways; nearly 300 additional passengers had come aboard in Cherbourg and though Felicity had only taken on one additional First Class Passenger, it was important that she tend to her work duties. Logically, she knew this. But emotionally? It was difficult to resist the temptation to sneak off with Oliver again, though where they would sneak off _ to _while stuck on the ship, she wasn’t entirely certain. All she knew was that every time she passed through the Queen rooms to tend to the family, she could feel his eyes on her as plainly as a physical touch. 

His sister was a delight, Felicity quickly found. Thea’s general sense of wonder and enthusiasm made it easy to see the young, teenaged girl beneath the high society veneer her mother expected her to maintain at all times. 

And then there was Moira Queen. Felicity felt a subtle undertone of danger beneath every interaction with the Queen matriarch, who seemed intent on running Felicity ragged. Felicity did her level best to not only meet but exceed each of Moira’s demands. She helped the Queen women to dress for dinner, wincing as she cinched up corsets to brutal, near suffocating degrees. And when they finally went, it did not escape her notice that Oliver placed himself to depart the rooms last, his lips pulled into a shy smile as he made pointed eye contact with her. 

“Meet me on the promenade deck. Tonight. Nine o’clock,” he muttered as he passed by her some long moments after the rest of his family. Blinking at him in surprise, she was rendered momentarily speechless by the idea.

It was brash. It was reckless. She could get into no small amount of trouble. And yet… the memory of the gardens in Cherbourg flashed in her head and she knew she could not tell him no. 

Dipping her head in a silent nod of agreement, she gloried in the way his face lit up with elation. When he had caught up to the rest of his family a short ways down the hall, Felicity grew bold and called out to them, her eyes catching his even from afar. 

“Enjoy your evening, Queens,” Felicity chirped brightly, offering a muted smile as the four of them left, Oliver turning back to let his eyes linger on her before he rounded the corner towards the First Class dining accommodations. 

Felicity wasn’t sure what had possessed her to say yes to him. But she was sure that being with him? It was definitely preferable to being without him. 

\-----

Dinner was a laborious affair and while Oliver had done his best to keep up appearances, he feared his mother had begun to catch whiff that something else was on his mind. Ordinarily, Oliver didn’t particularly care if his mother was aware of what he was up to. But in this instance, Oliver felt so fiercely protective of Felicity, it was imperative to him that he keep his mother in the dark. If Moira Queen found out what Oliver was up to, it wouldn’t end well - for any of them. Of that much, he was certain. 

When dinner was over, he begged off going to the Smoking Room, citing that he was tired from the day’s travel and he was eager to turn in. He hurried back to his room and quickly changed out of his dinner best and into a more relaxed outfit while still keeping to the required dress standards for the promenade deck. 

Time passed with painful slowness but eventually, he heard his family return from dinner. They checked on him and he drew a blanket over himself to hide his manner of dress, keen on keeping them all in the dark. After murmured ‘good nights’, his parents and sister went to their respective rooms. A glance at his pocket watch told him the appointed hour was nearing. With careful, quiet steps, Oliver let himself out of his room and into the hall, where he quickly made his way to the promenade deck. Despite getting lost twice on the way, he still managed to get there early and so he was left to pace restlessly as he waited and prayed she would show.

All evening as Felicity had tended to his family, it had been all he could do not to speak with her in the easy, free manner they had spoken while venturing off of the ship together. Something about her… she made it easy to open up. And that was a new experience for him.

As his pocket watch struck nine, Oliver felt his nerves ramp up and his eyes kept sweeping the deck expectantly. When the sound of footfalls reached his ears, he was very nearly in a tizzy. And then Felicity came into view and the world fell away. 

She was still in her service uniform, though she’d shed the apron and cap before joining him. As she made her way towards him timidly, Oliver felt a smirk steal across his features. 

“You came,” he remarked softly as she came to stand alongside him and she stifled a smile but nodded at him.

“I did. You were surprisingly convincing.” 

“I have been told.” 

Without delay, he offered her his arm and though she stared at it uncertainly, Felicity eventually took it and he guided her towards the railing and they began to walk in companionable silence. For a time, he could scarcely do more than watch her, his eyes trained on her figure hungrily. But as he relaxed and became confident she wasn’t going to run off, he found his voice again. 

“You know, you owe me an explanation,” the well intentioned humor in his tone was impossible to miss and she was quick to angle her face to stare at him critically. 

“Is that so? An explanation for what?” 

“How it is that a charming creature such as yourself came to be so wickedly good at Blackjack.” 

“Ah yes. That,” she sighed, nodding as they continued walking along, arm in arm. “Well, I have my father to thank for that. He showed me that cards really just boils down to mathematics. Which… happens to be an area I am rather proficient. So you see, I can deduce how likely a card is to appear based on simple probability.”

At this she glanced to Oliver to confirm that he had followed her story thus far. When he nodded, she continued. 

“The hand that I had? It only wins twenty three percent of the time. Not the best odds. But if I split the 8s? That meant I was starting a hand with an 8 against a dealer 10, and my chances of winning then increased to thirty eight percent. Which was a far sight better than twenty three. So I split. And the rest… well. You were there. You know.” She shrugged and offered him a smile but Oliver was so enraptured that his response was noticeably delayed. 

“I...That’s- You’re _ incredible, _you know that right?” 

At this she ducked her head, shaking it as she went, but Oliver would not be dissuaded.

“Truly, Felicity. You are remarkable. I have never known a person as smart as you. That… that’s amazing. Although admittedly, this is also rather disheartening, as it means you can’t improve _ my _Blackjack skills. I’m nowhere near the mathematical genius that you are. So it would appear that your skills will remain yours alone and I will wonder at them from afar.” 

“Not from too far afar, I should hope.” 

It was a bold statement but it delighted him; it also delighted him that she seemed amazed by her own words, her cheeks reddening beneath his very gaze. 

“Most certainly not.”

Silence grew between them then as they both regrouped from their surprising forwardness with one another. After a time, they resumed talking and in short order, Oliver found himself wading deep into conversational waters with her once more.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about her. And she, in turn, seemed anxious to learn whatever she could about him. With frightful speed and ease, the minutes passed and in the blink of an eye it was nearing midnight and they were still talking with each other. Neither showed a desire to stop but in the back of his head, Oliver was well aware that she needed to rest. She had to work in the morning and the last thing he wanted was to be an encumbrance upon her. 

“It’s late,” he pointed out as they both leaned against the ship’s railing, staring out at the inky sea, “and you need to sleep… May I walk you to your quarters?” 

She regarded him, turning over his request before she finally nodded, a fleeting smile passing across her lips. 

“I would like that very much.” 

They walked in companionable silence and though it killed him to let her go without a kiss, he did precisely that, parting with her with a quiet ‘Goodnight’ before he made his way back to his room in a daze, convinced of one thing:

Felicity Smoak was the woman he was going to marry someday. 

\-----

He awoke early the next morning and in his eagerness to see her, he concocted what was perhaps a bold plan but which, the moment he thought it, struck his fancy. Dressing quickly, Oliver went down to the dining hall and collected as many pastries as he could reasonably fit inside one of the fine, cloth napkins and then without so much as a backwards glance, he strolled out in plain sight with his weighted down napkin. 

No crew member was going to stop him and if he could take some pastries to go, he might as well take them to share with Felicity.

It took him a long while to navigate the halls of the ship, but eventually he found his way to the crew quarters door where he had left her the night previously. And then, with all the determination and patience granted him, Oliver simply waited for her and hoped that he had not already missed her leaving to start her day’s work.

Thankfully, he did not have long to wait.

She emerged from behind the door, a flurry of motion, her cap askew as she hurriedly tied her apron strings. When she caught sight of him, however, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes lighting with surprise. 

“Oliver? What are you doing here?!” 

Lifting the napkin before him by way of explanation, he flashed her a smile, his eyes trained on hers. The fact that she had lit up upon seeing him? That was something he was unaccustomed to but he was quickly coming to love, thanks to her. 

“I brought breakfast as a way of saying thank you for staying up so late last night to speak with me. I was hoping you’d dine with me… If you have the time and are willing?” 

As he watched, she gnawed at her lower lip indecisively and he could see that she was warring with herself even as she watched him.

“The Second Class Deck. And just for a moment, or I’ll be late. And I think we both know how kindly your mother would take to that,” she teased lightly and Oliver grinned, too delighted by her acceptance to be upset that he would only have a few fleeting moments. 

He would take what he could get. Any moment in her presence was better than a moment outside of it. 

She led the way with easy, untroubled strides and in short order the cold morning air hit them as they strode out onto the Second Class Deck. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting long rays of light across the dark surface of the ocean. She found them a bench and together, they sat down and Oliver laid out the napkin of pastries between them. She sucked in a delighted breath at the sight and Oliver was once more reminded of his good fortune at being born to a family so accustomed to such privileges as fresh pastries - from glancing at the menus for Second Class and Steerage, he knew the other passengers were not so fortunate as he. But he was all too happy to share the spoils of that privilege with Felicity. And if she delighted in it? All the better. 

“Did you manage to get some sleep, despite a certain, obnoxious passenger’s attempts to keep you up all night?” Oliver queried teasingly and she rolled her eyes in answer, her mouth too full with a bite of apple turnover to answer him. She chewed quickly and swallowed, fixing him with a piercing gaze.

“I don’t know about any obnoxious passenger, but I did spend an entirely pleasant evening speaking to a surprisingly charming young man, who was a complete gentleman and even went so far as to walk me back to my quarters,” she answered him with raised brows and he grinned as he avoided looking at her, instead looking out to sea. 

“It sounds as though this young man is attempting to court you,” he pointed out idly and she made an uncharacteristic snort. 

“I very much doubt that. But I do enjoy his company nonetheless.” 

At this, Oliver’s attention snapped back to her and he stared at her seriously, determined to lay to rest any doubts as to his intentions. 

“He enjoys your company as well. But know this: he is most assuredly courting you. If he has your permission to do so, of course.” 

He could see her whole body go still at this and her hand froze, the half eaten pastry forgotten as she stared at him in mute surprise. After a prolonged pause during which she could do no more than blink at him, she finally found her voice.

“You… You’re serious? You mean to say that you are courting me… In earnest?” 

The disbelief in her voice made his heart twinge painfully but he nodded without hesitation.

“You sound surprised. What did you think I was doing?” 

“I-I thought you were just bored and looking for someone to talk to. At most I thought you were perhaps flirting with me to pass the time or for amusement. I never thought you were serious about it!” 

“Felicity. Consider this me informing you that I am very much serious about courting you, if you’ll allow me to.” 

“But… I-I’m _ me. _ And you’re _ you!” _

“The fact that you are not me _ is _something of a selling point of yours, I would agree,” he returned in jest and she shook her head as she rose to her feet and he followed quickly after her.

“Oliver, you can’t court me. I-I’m not a lady of means!”

“I don’t care.” 

“But your mother will! Your friends will! Everyone other than you will care that I am entirely beneath your station.”

“Felicity, if you have not caught on yet, you’ll soon learn I care little for rules. Answer me this: if we were the same class, would you allow me to court you?” 

“Oliver, you know it’s not as simple as that-” she began to argue, only for him to grab her by the hand and draw her nearer. He could still smell the apple from the pastry on her breath, and the soft scent of peppermint dancing on her skin. 

“It _ is _ that simple, Felicity. I care little for what other people think. I do, however, care what you think. You speak of station. I care little for mine. If I am above your station then I will name you to mine. And if I cannot, then I will name myself to yours.” 

“You’re mad,” she gasped, shaking her head even as she smiled at him in disbelief.

“Perhaps. But I would sooner be mad in pursuit of passion than mad with the stifling of it,” at this he released his grip on her hand and stared at her intently, contemplating something for a long moment before he broke into a wide smile. 

“The ship will dock in Ireland today, is that correct?” 

Taken aback by this sudden change of topic she stared at him quizzically, then nodded.

“Y-Yes, that’s right.” 

“I intend to go ashore today then, just as you and I did together in France. If you find my offer of courtship agreeable to you… Meet me on the deck when we arrive. Come with me to see Ireland. And if you do not meet me to go ashore… Well, you will need fear no further flirtation or late night conversations from me. On my honor. I will not trouble you any further.” 

“Oliver-”

“No,” he shook his head gently, stopping her before she could get going. “Wait. Think on what I’ve said. Tell me when we reach Ireland. Or do not. Either way, Felicity… I-I will consider having met you a gift. Truly.” 

He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles before he tilted his head to the side to indicate the ship’s interior. 

“We should go - I do not wish to make you late.” 

She gawked at him wordlessly but finally nodded, unable to piece together anything coherent to say to him. As they reentered the ship and parted ways, he watched her go, though she glanced back often to look at him as she went. 

\-----

The rest of the morning passed with agonizing slowness. With his intentions towards Felicity laid bare before her, all Oliver could do was wait for the ship to dock in Ireland. And never, in all his life, had time moved slower. He made himself absent from the Queen family rooms, unable to contemplate the notion of seeing her while this uncertainty still hung over their heads. In truth, seeing her if she chose not to let him court her would be just as, if not more, painful. But he could not let himself think thusly.

She would say yes. The spark between them when they had first met was more than some casual flirtation. And he was convinced she had felt it too. But when he thought of the surprise she’d shown at the very idea of him courting her, and her stern refusal that they were not a match anyone would approve of, his nerves ate away at his confidence.

He whittled away the hours in Second Class, playing cards in the Smoking Room with the gents there, but he could not help but be reminded of the first time he’d laid eyes on her in that fateful game of Blackjack and soon, cards lost their luster. He strolled the decks for a long while, his eyes trained on the horizon that he hoped would soon bring sight of land. 

It took far longer than he had hoped but eventually the dark smudge of the shoreline broke on the horizon and he felt his heart rate spike. Soon, he would have his answer. And if it was not what he had hoped… well, there was one thing that could be said for Ireland - it had an abundance of pubs and beer would not be in short supply. He could drown his sorrows, if nothing else. 

The decks grew loud with activity as the crew came out in droves to see the ship safely docked not in the dock proper, but alongside a small spit of land. And despite his nerves, Oliver made his way to the First Class deck railing and he began his silent vigil. Each passing minute seemed a short eternity and with each second, he feared that she had chosen to wash her hands of him and his fool’s notion of courtship. As the first crew members began to organize the disembarking passengers (eight in all), Oliver felt as though he might be ill. Was she not going to show? They would only be docked in Ireland briefly and already the crew members were preparing the first of only two ferries. Only a little over a hundred passengers were expected; Ireland would be a brief stop. 

It was then that a voice interrupted his spiral.

“It appears they are ready for us.”

He spun on his heel to find her standing before him, wringing her hands before her anxiously as she offered up a nervous, lopsided smile. In answer, he could only beam at her as he offered her his hand, his anxieties vanishing in an instant.

She was here. Which meant she had decided to allow him to court her. His heart was so full it was fit to burst. 

“Then we should not keep them waiting,” he returned as her hand slid neatly into his. Together, they made their way off the ship and onto the waiting ferry. As the small vessel slipped into Cork Harbor proper, Oliver could scarcely take his eyes off of her. Already, he was so delighted by her decision to join him today and the ramifications of her choice. 

When they stepped off the boat and onto dry land, Oliver offered her his arm and to his tremendous joy, Felicity took it gratefully. Together, they navigated the buzzing harbor teeming with human and animal life. Animals vocalized from crates being loaded onto ships, men cried out sharply to each other and already, Oliver could see Felicity soaking all of it up. He doubted he would ever tire of seeing her delight in the fresh wonders of each new port of call. If she loved Ireland nearly as much as she had loved France, then there were so many beautiful corners of the Earth he could not wait to show her. And he would show her; she had given him permission to court her by coming here today. And Oliver had no doubts how that courtship would end. 

Marriage would afford them plenty of opportunities to see the world together, of that he was positive. 

\-----

The moment they set foot on Irish soil, Felicity could _ feel _the difference in the pulse of Ireland as opposed to France. The lilting cadence of the accents, the rough and yet, rawly beautiful Irish brogue; she was entirely taken by it. She held fast to Oliver as he navigated them through the busy docks of Cork Harbor while she gawked at everything they passed. Where France’s docks had held a stately air about it, what with the statue of Napoleon and all, Ireland had a rough and tumble sense about it that she found equally appealing, albeit in a different way. 

In short order, Oliver guided them to a nearby pub and they ducked inside of it together, smiling brightly to each other before approaching the barkeep. The man motioned to the side with his head and Oliver nodded before leading Felicity towards a side room.

“Where are we going?” She whispered to him and Oliver shook his head deftly until the barkeep opened up a small space at the end of the bar and Oliver led her through it. As they entered, Oliver glanced at the fellow manning the bar.

“Two pints, please,” Oliver informed the barman as he seated Felicity inside and closed the door behind them. Turning to look at her, she quirked a brow at him.

“Women cannot be served in a bar. But they _ can _be served in the Snug. Which is what we’re in now,” he explained as he locked the door behind them, affording them almost total privacy. A small window near the door suddenly filled as two pints were pushed through it and Oliver grinned before he slapped down money in exchange for the beer. 

Carrying over the two pints to her, he offered one to her and she stared at it with a hefty dose of uncertainty. 

“Allow me to propose a toast,” Oliver began and she eyed him curiously. 

“A toast to what?” 

“To us,” he answered simply as he clanked his pint against hers before he began to drink deeply of the dark Irish beer. Felicity shifted uneasily before him and then tentatively followed his lead, taking a deep drink of her pint. As he watched, she made a face as she tried to swallow down her drink before looking at him in mild horror.

“This tastes dreadful!” 

“Of course it does, it’s beer, Felicity.” 

“I thought it would taste..._ better,” _ she remarked, flabbergasted. Cocking his head to the side, Oliver studied her for a second.

“Have you ever had a beer before? Have you ever had _ any _alcohol before?” 

At this, she fell still and a bit of color rose in her cheeks, prompting Oliver to grin delightedly. 

“You haven’t, have you?!” In answer, she squirmed in her seat, pointedly avoiding his gaze as she bit her lower lip and tried (and failed) to hold back a smile.

“Alright, no! I haven’t! My mother never touches the stuff and so I never did either.” 

“Have I corrupted you as easily as all that, then?” Oliver queried lightly and she shook her head and rolled her eyes playfully at him. Without delay, she grabbed her pint again and with surprising quickness, she gulped down the dark liquid within as he watched on in amazement.

“I should think you and your insistence on courting me properly are a far cry from corruption,” she answered him back softly when she’d finished, her gaze and her words rife with meaning. Oliver grew still beneath that look, his heart thrashing about like mad within his chest.

“You are a lady in all ways that matter, Felicity. You deserve to be treated - and therefore, courted - as such,” he sighed back at her, not breaking eye contact. They continued to hold each others stares until finally, she relented, instead turning her attention to the pint at hand.

“Well, then let us drink to that - to treating each other the way we deserve to be treated, society be damned,” she remarked a little breathlessly, swept up in the thrill of bucking convention. Oliver’s lips curved into a smile and he nodded, following suit and taking up his pint once more. 

Felicity drank deeply again this time and before he could caution her against such swift consumption, she’d already downed nearly three quarters of the pint. 

“Go easy, Felicity,” he warned with a mild tone of amusement, “-you should go slow. It will catch up to you unexpectedly.” 

She brought her pint down heavily upon the bartop, breathing heavily and wincing as she licked her lips and swallowed experimentally a few times. There was something distinctly thrilling about watching her drink her first beer though. Apparently, Felicity was not alone in the thrill she got from breaking with societal expectations. 

“I truly don’t see how you can sip this without feeling as though your throat is being burned,” she remarked as she regarded her pint, shaking her head in amazement. “It’s not very tasty.” 

“It grows on you, in time. But most don’t drink it for the taste. They drink it for the after effects.” 

Felicity considered this for a moment as she stared at the remaining liquid in her glass. Oliver could tell that she was quietly taking stock of herself and trying to feel if the beer had impacted her yet. It was far too soon, he knew, but given her small stature and her inexperience with drinking, he was quite certain the alcohol would catch up to her sooner rather than later. 

For a while, the two sat in companionable silence, sipping at their drinks as they sat shoulder to shoulder. It was she who was the first to break the quiet. 

“What’s it like to be drunk?” 

Her question caught him off guard and he stared at her, his mouth ajar as he tried to collect himself. After a moment, he cleared his throat and took a drink to buy himself another second to think before he turned to face her again.

“Well… it varies. It’s dependent on the person and what they’re drinking. Some people are sad when they drink in excess; others are happy or angry.”

“What about you then? How do _ you _feel when you drink?” Felicity pressed on inquisitively and at this Oliver grew pensieve. 

“I feel lighter… Happier. I can almost forget to see the bars of the prison that I am trapped in. When I drink I feel _ free _…” he trailed off there, suddenly self conscious as he looked at her and found her staring back with surprising intensity. 

“You drink to forget.” 

“I did.” 

“Past tense?”

“Yes… I don’t want to forget anymore.” 

At this she grew still, her eyes wide and her breathing catching a little as she studied him thoughtfully. 

“Why?” 

“Because now I have you. And you, Felicity… you make me want to remember _ everything. _I’m already free when I’m with you. I have nothing and no one to escape from now - only someone to hold onto.” 

It happened suddenly; in hindsight, he should have known from the slight glaze in her eyes and the warm flush of her cheeks that she was already comfortably tipsy. But in the moment, all Oliver was aware of was Felicity leaning forward, and just like that her lips were on his. She kissed him with such unexpected sweetness that Oliver was remiss to put a stop to it until his brain caught up with him.

She was tipsy. She had never drank before today. He could not allow this to go on. 

When there was a momentary lull in the kiss, he drew away slowly, not wanting to hurt her feelings but also not wanting to take advantage. Her eyes fluttered closed and she hummed a soft little sound as she settled her weight squarely back onto her stool. When her blue eyes opened to regard him once more, she was still glossy eyed but she was not angry, for which he was grateful.

Wordlessly, she offered him her hand and he took it unquestioningly, reveling in the warmth of her touch as she squeezed his hand sweetly and smiled demurely at him. It did not escape his attention that he had spoken of holding onto someone and she had offered her hand to him immediately; subtlety was hardly the art of the intoxicated and Felicity, bless her heart, was at least mildly so. 

Still, it touched him that she would offer herself so freely, that she was so happy to be the person he wanted to hold on tight to. And he knew that if he had probed for her own sentiments on the issue, she would have given them freely. But he did not want to take advantage of the fact that she was more than likely a bit more forthcoming about her feelings right now than she might ordinarily be. Alcohol, after all, often loosened lips and he did not want to learn anything she was not ready to tell him sober. 

Glancing at the time, however, he realized that it was already later than he had thought; they needed to get back to the ship, and soon. Holding fast to her hand, he spoke in a quiet rumble.

“Felicity… We must return to the ship now.” 

In answer she groaned and shook her head at him as she seemed to sink into the very barstool she was seated upon. 

“I don’t want to. I want to stay here. With you.” 

Well. She was hardly alone in that sentiment. But though it was tempting to consider, Oliver knew she would be greatly distressed if they missed the ship. Doing so would cost Felicity her job and he knew her well enough already to know that would bring her no small amount of regret. 

Better to return to the Titanic and their stolen moments together than to inflict any undue stress upon Felicity. 

Oliver offered Felicity his arm and when she readily accepted it, he guided the pair of them back from whence they’d come. The docks were still a gnarled mass of people and machinery but they managed to make the last ferry back to the ship with time to spare. The cool sea breeze and the spray of the sea quickly helped Felicity to sober and by the time they had arrived on deck again, she was very much in control of her wits once more. 

He was all too keenly aware that she had to go post haste - she had passengers to check on, his own family included, and tardiness would not be met with kindness. Still, he could not help but ask one thing more of her. 

“Felicity… After dinner service tonight? Come find me. I’ll be on the Second Class Deck. Please... join me.” His voice was light and pleading as his eyes lifted to hers, unable and unwilling to hide just how badly he wanted her to agree. She stared at him, momentarily torn between duty and desire.

Desire won out.

“Yes. I will find you. After dinner service. Look for me.” 

And just like that, she turned and in a flurry of white apron cloth and dark service skirts, she disappeared into the belly of the boat, leaving Oliver on the deck in her wake. Long after she had gone, Oliver still watched the door she had ducked into, waiting and hoping, however foolishly. 

She was working. She could no sooner send word to him than he could get word to her. The best thing he could do was carry on with his day and pray that dinner came quickly. It was only a short while past noon; he had a long time to wait. The day seemed determined to drag on and Oliver felt as if he must be old and grey by the time dinner finally began to be served and his family made their way to the dining hall. Oliver plowed through dinner with all the grace of a bull, restless and impatient to be done with the meal. The sooner they finished, the sooner he could go off with Felicity. 

Ignoring the displeased looks from his mother, Oliver cleaned his plate in record time and then filled another cloth napkin with an assortment of desserts before he excused himself from the hall. Let his mother wonder. Let her stew. 

Oliver had to balance the scales between himself and Felicity. And he intended to do so tonight. 

He was predictably early and even as he took up a good spot to sit on the deck and wait, Oliver wondered if Felicity would even be able to make it. He knew that each time she stole away to spend time with him, she was gambling with her job (and therefore, her livelihood and reputation) to see him. And he hated to risk those things, truly he did.

But god, he loved to spend time with her. And he believed that she enjoyed spending time with him in turn. 

As the minutes wore on, Oliver felt his leg twitching with nervous energy and his hand drummed anxiously against the armrest of the bench. Dinner service ought to have ended by now but she still hadn’t shown. He knew her duties could often be extended dependent on the needs of her charges. But he had truly hoped she would be released at an appropriate hour tonight, that they would have all the more time to spend together. 

After what had transpired in the pub back in Ireland, Oliver knew he needed to see her and to make certain that she was not upset about the drinking - or the kissing that had followed it. But as he checked his pocket watch for perhaps the millionth time that night, he began to fret that she would be unable to show. 

And just when his worries were reaching a crescendo, she appeared in the doorway that led to the deck, silhouetted in the soft golden lights from within the ship’s interior. 

She was dressed in a simple, light blue dress that was exquisitely flattering and simultaneously, so simple and tasteful. The light color made her stand out starkly in the darkness and as she drew nearer, the soft lighting made her look almost ethereal as she floated across the mostly empty deck. Oliver watched as she came within arm’s reach, a smile on his face as she sat down on the bench beside him, shooting him a bright eyed, curious glance before she motioned to the folded dinner napkin between them.

“Helped yourself to more pastries, have you?”

“And some cake, as it so happens,” the devil may care tone of his voice came naturally and he rolled his shoulders with a smirk as he unfolded the napkin for her to inspect the contents within. 

“A most remarkable haul,” Felicity nodded approvingly.

“I brought them for us to share… If you’d like,” he offered delicately, only for Felicity to wince slightly. 

“I think my stomach and my head would rather I not,” she rebuked him gently and Oliver felt his stomach twist uneasily. 

“The alcohol?” 

“Was perhaps a bit more than I was prepared for, as it turns out,” she murmured self consciously, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she patently avoided his gaze. 

“Felicity, I am so sorry, I should have stopped you-” he began apologetically but she waved him off, seemingly untroubled. 

“Oliver. You have nothing to apologize for. You were a perfect gentleman. And I had fun… Not to mention, I learned that I have a very low tolerance for alcohol!” She chirped brightly, a flicker of a smile dancing across her face before she fell silent beside him, her hands folded together neatly in her lap. Oliver took a moment to breathe her in, utterly delighted by her and over the moon that she was not upset about the day’s events. 

“Felicity? ...I’m glad you could make it here tonight.” 

“I’m glad too.” Her response echoed his own joy and the very sound of it was music to his ears. 

His eyes shone as he watched her and even this close, he could scarcely believe she was real. There was a raw vulnerability to Felicity that he was utterly unaccustomed to and which he delighted in every time he saw her. Oliver had grown up with society girls who were groomed to put on a good show and tamp down their emotions. Being honest and open was a flaw; high society ladies should be proper and calculated in their words and in their actions. 

Hard to be honest in such conditions. 

But Felicity had known no such upbringing. And while she was a well mannered individual when necessity called for it, he had seen her unrestrained and free and that version of her? He found her intoxicating. Her very presence here alone was a display of free thinking that was absent from most of the girls he’d grown up around. None of them would have done anything more than dream about setting a toe out of line. Nothing that could ever be construed as scandalous or improper could be allowed to transpire.

Yet Felicity kept showing up. And she kept showing him that she cared less about what society thought and more about what he thought. It didn’t make her any less of a refined lady in his mind. Instead, it made her the bravest, most exquisitely rare lady of them all.

“Oliver? Thank you for asking me to come,” Felicity murmured shyly and Oliver felt a white hot streak of wanting lance through him at the words. Of course he had wanted her to come. She was the only one on this entire ship that he wanted to spend his time with. 

And right now? He wanted to spend time with Felicity, holding her close. And he knew just the way to achieve such a thing. Without warning, he rose to his feet and turned back to her, his expression soft. 

“May I have this dance?” He queried, one open palm fluttering before her by way of invitation. Felicity stared at it uncertainly, flashing him an uneasy look.

“I don’t know how to dance,” she admitted self consciously but Oliver would not be deterred. 

“That’s alright. Just hold onto me, Felicity. I’ll lead. You follow.” 

“I might step on your feet,” she warned him but he kept holding his hand aloft expectantly. 

“I won’t mind.” 

With a final, nervous sideways glance she put her hand through his to his great amazement and joy, and Oliver wasted no time in drawing her closer to him. His heart seemed to strain against his ribcage as it beat erratically within his chest and he was desperately grateful that she had not objected to him placing his hands on her to steady himself, elsewise she would have probably felt the tremble in his hands as he swayed beneath the stars with her. 

In time, he could feel her relaxing into him and likewise, he relaxed into her. And while she did step on his toes a time or two, Oliver found himself thoroughly entranced and as such, utterly indifferent to the state of his toes. 

As they grew more comfortable with their close proximity and with the small yet intimate touches of hand to waist and hand to shoulder, Oliver grew bolder with her. Eager to show her a good time, he leaned in close to her ear.

“Don’t be afraid. Just trust me.” He muttered against the shell of her ear, noting with a smile how she shivered in response and then nodded mutely. 

He spun her away from him with ease and though her eyes flew open wide in surprise, her grip on him allowed him to draw her back to him with relative ease and when she was in his arms once more, he could see the exhilarated thrill in her eyes and in her smile. 

With slow steps, he guided the two of them to the ship’s prow and as they reached it, he wrapped an arm protectively across her waist and brought her to a halt so they could survey the glossy, black surface of the sea spread out before them. 

“You are a lovely dancer, Felicity Smoak.” Oliver had nothing but positive things to say about Felicity as a dance partner. What he did not say but was already feverishly hoping, was that this would not be their last dance. But judging by the way her eyes sparkled and her skin flushed, he felt confident he would be able to convince her. 

“And you are a most accomplished teacher, Oliver Queen.”

The two shared a grin and turned their attention back out to the sea. After a spell, Oliver felt Felicity tremble ever so slightly against him. At first he thought nothing of it, but a moment later, another, larger shiver from her had him turning her in his embrace.

“Felicity… You’re cold, aren’t you?” 

She gave a wry smile that went so far as to wrinkle her nose and she gave a nervous nod. 

“Yes but not terribly so. I can stay out here a while longer. I’ll be fine, honestly.” 

“I think not. I cannot stand idly by with a lady I care for shivering when I have in my possession a perfectly good dinner jacket,” he explained simply, shrugging out of his outermost layer. With a flourish, Oliver threw the jacket around her shoulders, drawing it snugly up her arms as he studied her intently. 

“See now? That’s much better…” Oliver murmured dazedly, losing all sense of purpose the longer he stared into her eyes. And right there, beneath the stars and the moon, he knew with absolute certainty and absolute clarity that the moment had come.

As her hands came to hold his jacket in place across her shoulders, Oliver’s fingers slid away from the fabric of the coat and traced up the planes of her neck until he was cupping her face in his hands. He heard as much as felt her breathing catch as he did so and as he watched, her eyes grew round with surprise as he held her thusly, his intentions abundantly clear. 

“Felicity,” her name fell off his lips with the fervent devotion and adoration of a prayer, “I would very much like to kiss you now.” 

His heart was prepared to beat right through his ribcage as he awaited her response. Her mouth seemed to work to unhinge itself a few times before she finally managed to attempt to splutter out words.

“I-I would… You… _ Yes.” _She nodded enthusiastically, her face positively radiating bliss. “I think I-I would very much like that.” 

His fingertips smoothed across her jawline and he lowered his face until his nose brushed hers ever so faintly. And then, as they breathed softly against each other, he held just short of actually kissing her. His heart was thundering within his chest and his self control was dissolving by the moment. But he took the opportunity to stare deeply into her eyes, allowing himself to savor this moment because he knew, this would be something he’d want to remember for the rest of his life. 

The kiss was exceedingly gentle; their lips met in a faint brush that grew quickly from nervous to certain. He felt her body go from tense with the anticipation to relaxed with delight as she leaned into him willingly. And still the kiss went on, as their lips moved slowly and sweetly against each other. He made no move to deepen it into something more, even though he was vibrating with desire for her. This was Felicity; he had to take his time in romancing her the way she deserved to be romanced. 

After a spell, they briefly parted, long enough to breathe in once, perhaps twice, and before he knew it she had tilted her head up towards his and found him once more. This time he kissed her a little more intently, drawing the moments out in his desire to make it go on forever. He did his best to convey all the tender affection that he could into the kiss but his sense of control, however thin, was dissolving quickly. 

He wanted more with her. He wanted more with her _ so badly. _

His tongue pressed into her mouth and he heard the sharp inhale she drew in but she only moved towards him in response, undeterred by his escalation. His breathing ragged, Oliver let his tongue stroke hers just the once and then, grudgingly, he drew back from her, pressing a single, soft kiss to the corner of her mouth with finality. 

They lingered, breathing against each other in dazed ecstasy and the sight of her, with ruddy cheeks and sparkling eyes, breathless for having kissed him? It was nearly enough to undo him then and there. When he had finally regained enough of his sensibilities to speak, he smiled down at her and his thumb stroked her cheek. 

_ “That _ is our first kiss; what happened at the pub doesn’t count,” he murmured to her, his smile softening still more. “After all, the story of our first kiss _ has _to be good.” 

She stirred against him, looking pleasantly flustered as she cleared her throat and blinked before regarding him with newfound clarity and focus. 

“And why does it _ have _to be a good story, hmm?” She queried back with a light air of teasing. Oliver smiled and passed a hand across her face before he kissed her forehead lovingly. 

“Because. Our grandkids will ask us to tell the story someday. And this definitely beats the pub, wouldn’t you agree?” He cocked his head to the side playfully and Felicity could only stare back at him in slack jawed, wordless wonder. 

She finally offered a faint nod of response, still staring at him in amazement. And though it killed him to do it, Oliver knew he needed to get her back to her quarters; it was late and she would have to rise early for work in the morning, as she did every day. Still, he wanted to cling to the precious few moments left to them as best as he could. Without fanfare, he offered her his arm and she took it, allowing him to lead her back inside the ship and towards the crews quarters. 

When they finally reached the door, they stood alongside each other idly, neither of them willing to be the one to put an end to the night. At last, Oliver summoned the willpower to do so as he gingerly withdrew his arm from hers, his eyes trained on her. 

“I wish I did not have to let you go… This has been a nearly perfect evening,” he murmured to her in a low voice. And it was true; if he could have held onto her, he certainly would have. Oliver was quickly learning that Felicity exerted a pull on him unlike anything he had ever known - unlike any_ one _he had ever known. 

“Thank you… for everything.” 

Her response was fraught with meaning and he could only look at her, his eyes echoing the sentiments he had plainly expressed out on the deck through his actions. 

“I will see you tomorrow. During the lunch service - find me. Until then… sleep well, Felicity.”

Thusly, he bade her goodnight and watched as she slipped through the doorway and beyond his reach. When she had gone, he leaned heavily against the wall, his heart ready to burst with all the night’s excitement. 

He had kissed her. And what’s more? She had kissed him back. 

\-----

The next morning it was all that Oliver could do not to pitch a fit when he was informed by his mother that he would be spending his morning taking in a tour of the ship from the architect, Thomas Andrews. He’d had grand plans of bringing Felicity breakfast again and sneaking in a few quiet moments together before the hustle and bustle of the day.

Instead, Oliver found himself touring everything from the Boiler Rooms to the Mail Room to the Bridge, where he was introduced to the Captain - one Edward John Smith - and the First Officer - Murdoch something or the other. 

Ordinarily, Oliver might have found himself mildly interested in learning about the behemoth of a ship. Today however, he was annoyed by every fact and figure, because every word kept him from Felicity that much longer. He found himself loathing the Titanic and all her nine decks, and her sixteen watertight compartments. Even as he was informed of her every modern luxury (no expense spared!) and of her durability to ensure that she remained seaworthy in the event of disaster (she could survive four of the compartments being flooded and still remain buoyant!) Oliver was inwardly desperate to return to his quarters. At least there, he had a chance of seeing Felicity while she worked. Here in the ship’s belly? He had no such chance. 

He didn’t give a damn that the ship’s builders considered Titanic nigh unsinkable. Oliver just wanted to find the woman he had fallen head over heels in love with and be near her. Lunch service simply could not come fast enough

\-----

Felicity had awoke late, overtired from her late night dancing with Oliver. Her dreams had consisted of the kiss and little else. As such, she had overslept by a fair bit before she had been roused by the activity of the other staff members readying for the morning rush. 

In a flurry of activity, Felicity hurried to change and make ready for the day. No matter how deeply she found herself falling for Oliver - and she was most assuredly falling for him - she could not neglect her duties.

Besides. The sooner she reached the rooms she was responsible for and tended to the passengers that were her charges, the sooner lunch service would arrive. And then she would be able to steal away for a little precious time with Oliver. If nothing else could motivate her, then that certainly would. 

Felicity was hurrying down one of the staff service hallways, still flustered and fussing with her cap as she went, when a familiar voice called out to her and drew her up short.

“Felicity!” Rory fell into step with her, shaking his head as he looked her over once seriously. “I’ve been calling to you and you walked right by me. Where’s your head at?!” 

Flushing, Felicity ducked her head, embarrassed that she had been caught daydreaming by the one friend she had managed to make aboard the ship (aside from Oliver). 

“Rory! I’m sorry, I was distracted thinking of something,” she admitted, shaking her head as she passed a hand over her forehead. “I’m running late, I need to pick up extra towels for the Queen room or Moira Queen will have my head,” she explained and Rory gave her an odd look. 

“If you think she’ll have your head over some towels, what on earth are you doing running around with her son? Can you imagine how much more furious she’ll be to learn of _ that _?” 

Felicity went stock still as she looked at her friend, her eyes wide and her heart hammering. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Oh come on, Felicity. All of the Stewards know. You two aren’t exactly discrete. Dancing on the deck last night? You’re _ lucky _Moira Queen or someone else didn’t find you. As it is, Dinah saw you and she’s been running her mouth to any steward who will listen. What are you doing? Moira Queen will put out the dragnet for you if she so much as suspects you of being on the make with her son.” 

“Rory… please. Leave this be.”

“No, Felicity. This is a mistake. The only way this ends is with you getting the short straw. The fella’s no good. He’s got a reputation with the girls for a reason. I don’t want to see you hurt by him. He’s got a cushy life to go back to. Folks like you and I don’t have an ace to our name. A scandal like that could do you in. They’d sack you for sure.” 

“Rory, please. I mean this kindly but _ buzz off. _Oliver’s not like that. Not with me.” 

“For your sake, Felicity? I hope you’re right. But I really am scared he’s going to double cross you. You’re staff. There’s no one who will care if he steps out of line. You’re duck soup to guys like him. Just… be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt because of him.” 

Felicity paused, placing a hand on Rory’s shoulder as she shot him a reassuring, wry half smile. 

“I promise, I won’t. Oliver wouldn’t hurt me. You don’t have to worry.”

\-----

Lunch service passed entirely too quickly, but for the duration of it Felicity was at Oliver’s side in the Second Class dining room. Without anyone who knew them around, Oliver was bolder with her. He held her hand in his beneath the table, he leaned in close to murmur in her ear, and they exchanged innocent, soft touches here or there while they talked and laughed at length. 

“The pool!” He exclaimed brightly out of nowhere and she arched a brow at him curiously, uncertain where he was going with this.

“Yes? What of it?” 

“We should go!”

“We can’t go to the pool together! Oliver, there are separate hours of use for men and for women. Us being there together alone would get us both into hot water.”

“We could go at night. Just the two of us. No one would see.” 

With a pang, Felicity recalled her earlier conversation with Rory. Someone was always watching; on a ship with more than two thousand souls aboard, it was nearly impossible to find a place away from watchful eyes. 

“Even if we could sneak away… I can’t swim, Oliver. And the risk, if we were caught? Well, I’d be fired, that would be certain.” 

At this Oliver quieted but after he had considered her words for a moment, he spoke again.

“You don’t know how to swim?” 

She shook her head and Oliver grinned, nodding agreeably.

“Fine. We won’t sneak into the pool. But when we arrive in New York? I’ll teach you how to swim. You’ll love it. In the water, it’s like you’re weightless. It’s amazing.” 

He chattered on about the joys of swimming and Felicity found herself lost in his eyes and in his touch. Felicity wasn’t sure precisely how it had happened, but she was utterly smitten with him and the quiet, unassuming way he insisted on courting her. He was always careful to pull out her chair for her, to open doors for her, to offer her his arm. It was something she was entirely unaccustomed to and which she loved him all the more for, knowing as she did that he was doing all of this and more as a way of proving himself to her.

As if he had anything more to prove. As if she could feel anything less than joyous love for him. As if, as if, _ as if. _

When lunch service was drawing to a close, he was loathe to leave her and she, him. He drew her near to him, her hand in his, and he looked down at her pleadingly. 

“Find me again tonight? On the deck. After dinner.” 

She considered his request, replaying in her mind what had transpired between them last night on the deck. Their dance. The kiss. Also playing in her head was Rory’s warning. _ Someone would see them. _ Every single time they chose to be in each other’s company, they were risking being found out by the wrong person. 

But the memory of his lips on hers made her decision an easy one.

“I will.” 

\-----

They spent that evening together on the deck as they had the night before, talking and dancing and ultimately, kissing goodnight. Felicity was so swept up in how horribly romantic it all was that she was able to tamp down whatever concern Rory’s warnings had kicked up in her. Oliver… he was different with her. And he cared for her. There was an indescribably wonderful something about him that put her at ease and made her heart soar just for being near him. 

It was as if her soul knew his soul on some cosmic level. A ridiculous thought, perhaps, but one that crossed her mind nonetheless. There was such an ease and a familiarity between them that she could not question or doubt the bond being forged between them. On a deeper level, she knew that this thing between them, whatever it was? It was true. 

So on the morning of April 13th, Felicity was unable to help the way her eyes sought out his anytime she was in his family quarters. And she did not shy away from the secret touches they shared when they thought no one was watching. It did not escape her attention how his fingers trailed lightly across her shoulders when he walked behind her, or how his fingers would brush hers if they stood next to each other. 

Each touch, however forbidden, was a quiet thrill and she delighted in each casual brush of skin. Every lingering look was equally intimate, his eyes holding her so tightly that it was as if his eyes were touching her, trapping her steadfastly in place. 

All of that, however, came to a screeching halt anytime Moira Queen was in the room. And naturally, just as Thea ducked out of Oliver’s room to fetch a journal, finally leaving Felicity and Oliver alone, the opposite door to Moira and Robert’s room opened, admitting the woman herself inside Oliver’s quarters. 

“Oliver, there you are. I wanted you to know, I invited Mister Andrews to take lunch with us today and I expect you to be present and attentive.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes and muttered unintelligibly under his breath before he turned to face his mother, forcing himself to be stoic. 

“Would I dare to be anything less, mother?” 

“I mean it, Oliver. You have been going about like a sleepwalker the entire time we’ve been on this ship. You’ve been distracted and absent and it has not gone unnoticed among those in our circle. No more missing meals or disappearing unexpectedly - _ I mean it! _ We have a reputation to maintain and you will do so by appearing at meals as is expected of you. _ ” _Moira warned and Oliver stared back at his mother irritably but gave no indication that he had heard her before his mother swept off into the other room, leaving Oliver and Felicity alone as Felicity continued to fold the linens she had been tending to for the duration of the conversation. 

Almost at once, Oliver turned to look at her but before he could say a word, Thea came bounding back into the room, chattering animatedly about her journal and how she was using it to document the voyage. And just like that, they were out of time and Felicity had to leave to tend to her other passengers. 

She did not return until it was time to help the Queens ready themselves for the lunch service and then she was entirely occupied with tightening corsets and assisting Moira and Thea into their outfits for the luncheon with the ship’s architect. As the family prepared to depart, Felicity could feel Oliver’s gaze on her and it made it damnably difficult for her to concentrate. As the family prepared to leave, there was a brief moment during which time, Oliver was able to close himself off in his room, Felicity alongside him. 

“Come to dinner with me.” 

The words were spoken with urgency but they were no less genuine for that. Felicity looked at him blankly, unable to comprehend.

“What?” 

“Come to dinner with me. In First Class.” 

“Have you taken leave of your senses? Oliver, I could not possibly-”

“No one will know.”

“Of course they’ll know, Oliver! I’m not a First Class Passenger, they’ll ferret that out of me in an instant! What’s wrong with Second Class?”

“Felicity,” he pleaded with her, giving her an expression so sad and so simultaneously hopeful that it was all she could do not to crumble and agree right away. “Please? I want to take you for a nice dinner. I want you to have a meal with the extravagances and luxuries you deserve.” 

“You want to take me for dinner in First Class, Oliver! They’ll recognize me and then neither of us will enjoy any of those luxuries because we’ll be in so much trouble!” 

“They won’t recognize you. Trust me. They don’t… they don’t notice the people around them.” 

“You mean the people that wait on them,” Felicity corrected in a harsh tone and Oliver flinched but eventually swallowed and nodded. “Why would I _ want _to have dinner with such people?” Felicity pressed and Oliver lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“You do not have to have dinner with _those_ people, Felicity. But I was hoping you’d have dinner with one particular person. Me.” 

Felicity held her breath and stared at him.

“We can’t, Oliver. It will cause all manner of trouble. And I have nothing to wear. I am quite certain they would notice me sitting down in my Stewardess dress, no matter how oblivious you claim them to be!” Felicity protested, though Oliver could tell her resolve was weakening. 

“Leave your attire to me; I’ll manage something.”

Felicity stared at him uncertainly, gnawing at her lower lip as she did so. But her ability to resist him was falling apart before his pleading gaze. 

“We have to be utterly discrete.” 

“We will be the very essence of it.” 

“Just us. No one else at the table. I would rather not risk being recognized by the passengers I’m waiting on.” 

“I would prefer to have you all to myself anyhow,” he nodded enthusiastically, his eyes twinkling as he stared back at her. At long last, she relented.

“Very well. You may take me to dinner.” 

\-----

The afternoon passed in a whirlwind and Felicity thought her heart might go to pieces before dinner arrived, so anxious and uncertain was she over the whole situation. Agreeing to have dinner with Oliver had seemed a far more plausible plot when she had him beside her to encourage her. Left on her own to finish out her duties for the day though? Felicity was less convinced. 

Wherever was he going to find her a dress to wear? And how on earth would she fool _ anyone _into believing she was meant to be there, and not a stewardess stowaway in their midst? She had a thousand questions rattling around in her brain and no answers to quell them.

When the appointed hour arrived, Felicity tended to her various First Class charges, ending with the Queens. Once more she was helping with corsets and ribbons and hair, as directed by Moira Queen’s sharp tongue, her equally sharp eyes missing nothing as she oversaw Thea’s preparations. Felicity’s heart went out to the young girl - Thea had a vibrancy and freedom of spirit about her that most girls of her station did not possess (or had been smothered out of them early on). And yet, beneath her mother’s controlling grasp, Felicity could see that wild streak was growing weaker, constantly stifled to the verge of disappearing. 

What a shame it would be to see someone so young and so free be forced into compliance.

When at last the family was ready, they departed for dinner service without a word, Oliver lingering long enough to cast her a wayward look and to hold up a hand to caution her to stay. A minute or so after the group departed, Oliver came blustering back into his quarters, beaming like a loon.

“I told them I left my pocket watch and had to go back for it. By my reasoning, we’ve at least a few minutes before I have to go. Felicity, thank you, _ thank you _for agreeing to have dinner with me. You cannot fathom what this means to me,” Oliver rattled on enthusiastically, his eyes bright and his smile wide and easy. 

“I was able to procure a dress for you, from down in cargo,” he explained, hurrying to his bed and pulling a garment bag out from beneath it. “Help yourself to anything you need, Thea and my mother have perfumes and makeup aplenty.” 

He stopped in front of her and took her hands in his as he stared at her, nearly delirious with happiness. And Felicity could feel his joy catching like a contagion as the warmth of his bliss spread to her and bloomed within her chest. 

“I will wait for you just outside the dining hall,” he explained, studying her with great focus. “If you will still dine with me, that is.” His query was soft and nervous as he waited for her response and despite her earlier misgivings, Felicity found she could not say no to him.

“Of course I will dine with you,” she whispered back. And just as easily as that, she felt his hands go to her waist and she melted against him instantly. His lips sought hers for a hurried, excited kiss and despite her misgivings about dinner, Felicity gave in and returned the kiss in kind, too swept up to care that they were being reckless. She was lost in the kiss, in the electric shocks that sent her heart to racing and in the all consuming warmth that made the world fall away. 

They were still kissing a minute later when a sudden noise from behind them caught their attention and they split apart hastily, turning to find none other than Thea standing before them, aghast. 

“Thea!” Oliver growled at her as he stepped forward, hesitating as he neared her.

“M-Mother wants you to fetch her minke stole…” Thea trailed off, her eyes leaping between Oliver and Felicity with disbelief. Oliver was the first to react as Felicity remained unmoving beside him, her heart thundering and her blood roaring in her ears.

They’d been caught. By his little sister. This was bad. _ So bad. _

“Oliver, what are you _ thinking?! _Mother will be furious if she learns you’ve been sneaking off to be with Felicity!” Thea gasped at him and Oliver rounded on her in a rage. 

“Mother isn’t going to find out because you are _ not _ going to tell her, do you hear me? You will not breathe a word of this to _ anyone.” _

“Is that so?” Thea retorted hotly, putting her hands on her hips as she stared her older brother down, utterly unfazed by his menacing.

“It is so. Because if you say anything, Felicity could lose her job. And she should not be punished; she’s done nothing wrong. The only thing she is guilty of is being the woman I love; it would be unspeakably cruel for her to be the one to pay the price for my feelings.” Oliver objected and both women turned their eyes upon him in wonder. 

Oliver seemed to sense the change within the room but he did not outwardly react, instead remaining focused on his sister. His only tell, Felicity saw, was that he swallowed several times out of nervousness. 

“You love her?” Thea murmured, mystified. Oliver lifted his chin and stood up straighter, nodding as he looked at her. 

“I do.” 

At this, Thea swung her gaze to Felicity, looking suddenly studious as she stepped closer to her Stewardess with newfound appreciation.

“And do you feel the same for him?” 

Felicity stirred at this, glancing at Oliver as she stepped to stand alongside him, her hand sliding through his for support. She could sense the curiosity in his gaze as the question was posed to her but Felicity did not need a moment to consider her feelings. She knew how she felt in her heart of hearts, even with her fears and uncertainties there was no room for doubt. 

“I do.” 

At this Thea fell quiet, staring at the floor as she seemed to work through matters on her own. When she finally lifted her gaze to take in the pair of lovebirds once more, she seemed to have settled matters. 

“Then I suppose it is no one’s business but your own. Now, brother, if you would kindly fetch mother’s stole, then I’ll be on my way. But perhaps this time, you should lock the door behind you if you intend to kiss, hmm?” Thea warned in amusement before the teen strutted out of the room, leaving an amply relieved Felicity and Oliver in her wake.

The pair stole shy glances at one another, neither of them quite sure what to say in light of their recent confessions. 

“I don’t suppose you would still be willing to chance having dinner with me after that, would you?” Oliver queried at last and Felicity felt a wide grin split her face. 

“How could I say ‘no’ to the man that I love and who has already said he loves me as well?” Felicity returned breathlessly, prompting Oliver to beam.

“Truly?”

“Get your mother’s stole. I’ll see you down there shortly,” she confirmed, chuckling softly at the boyish satisfaction on his face as he raced to grab the article of clothing from his mother’s trunk and then disappeared, pressing a peck on her cheek in passing. 

The dress he’d found for her was gold in color and like nothing she had ever worn before; the fabric was supple and even _ felt _expensive in her hands. Wearing it, she could not help but fret that the rightful owner would see the dress and recognize it. But by the time she had her hair coiffed just so and her makeup done, Felicity was so anxious to join Oliver, she hadn’t the energy to worry overmuch about being recognized. Even looking in the mirror, she scarcely recognized herself. 

He was waiting outside the dining hall just as he’d promised and when he turned and saw her, she could see the impact the very sight of her had on him. His eyes went round with shock and his lips parted in wonder as he seemed to sleepwalk towards her in a dream. 

When he reached her and took her hand, he was all smiles, his eyes a-sparkle as he continued to watch her. 

“You look magnificent.” 

“Magnificent enough for First Class?”

“Better than First Class.” 

He escorted her inside and Felicity did her best to blend in amongst the crowd as he guided them to the table he’d reserved for them. She could feel stares here or there upon her as they went but as Oliver drew her chair out for her, she did her best to ignore them.

He guided her through the various cutlery as the meal unfolded and Felicity found herself slowly relaxing as the evening wore on. The tension began to leave her shoulders and she found herself actually having a good time as they talked at length about nothing and everything. And just as she was beginning to think that he was right, and this had been a marvelous idea, a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

_ “There _ you are. Honestly, Oliver? When I told you that I wanted you to be present for meals, I meant _ with your family. _ And then what do you do but abandon us at the very first dinner service after I make my requests known. I mean really. It is almost as though you are _ trying _to upset me,” his mother’s voice was a low hiss as she seated herself in between Oliver and Felicity, her focus entirely on her son. 

“Mother,” Oliver warned in a low voice, “we have company. And you are interrupting our dinner. We can speak of this later.” 

“No, I believe we will speak of this now. And as for your company, why don’t you introduce me? I assume that this is the woman responsible for dividing your attention these last few days, hmm?”

At that, Moira turned the full weight of her stare onto Felicity and the young blonde felt her insides turn to ice beneath the judgmental stare of the Queen matriarch. It was all she could do to keep her dinner down as Moira studied her, a frown creasing her features as she did.

“What’s your name?” 

“Mother, please. Leave her alone. We can speak after dinner service has concluded-”

“I’ve already said no. Now introduce me, Oliver.” 

Oliver cast a nervous glance Felicity’s way and then cleared his throat before gesturing his hand towards Felicity.

“Mother, this is Miss Megan Smoak. We met when the ship was leaving Southampton. She is traveling to America and kindly agreed to dine with me today.” Felicity blanched at his use of her middle name in lieu of her first but did her best to cover it, not wanting to blow their cover. Already though, she could feel sweat beading down her neck as Moira questioned them. 

“Smoak. I don’t recall hearing your name. How do you come to find yourself on this ship? And with whom? Certainly a young woman of your means and breeding is not traveling unaccompanied?” Moira pressed and Felicity saw the first cracks in Oliver’s veneer of composure. 

“She came with a chaperone; she is presently dining in the Second Class Dining Rooms,” Oliver offered weakly and Felicity could see Moira rolling this excuse around in her head, unimpressed. 

“Then why have I not seen Miss Smoak at any of the previous meal services?” 

“Miss Smoak is more inclined to take her meals in her room, that way she might eat in the company of her chaperone.” Oliver was doing his level best to lie for them both, which was good because Felicity was utterly at a loss under his mother’s scrutiny. 

“And what is this chaperone’s name?” Moira pressed still further. “And how does she deem it suitable to leave her charge to dine with a young man unobserved?” 

The pair gaped at each other for a moment and that was all it took.

“Just as I suspected. A lie, however well constructed; my son is full of them. Now let me see you,” Moira murmured as she leaned in closer, her eyes calculating. Felicity could see the precise moment that Moira Queen connected the dots though; one second her eyes were narrowed in displeasure and the next, Moira Queen’s startlingly clear eyes had gone wide and dark with rage.

“The _ stewardess, _ Oliver?” She hissed in a low undertone, swinging her gaze to her son. “I cannot fathom what has gotten into you. I will not stand for it. You,” she swung her gaze back to Felicity, “will leave this dining room and _ never _presume to set foot in it with my son again. Do you hear me?”

“Mother-” Oliver growled, only for Moira to turn on him in her muted rage. 

“You. I have come to expect a certain level of incivility from you but this? This is a new low, even for you Oliver. The help? How could you! What if she was recognized by someone? Have you no sense of decency?!”

“Me? What of your decency? Felicity is not some bug for you to squash,” Oliver shot back in a heated tone. 

“I would not test that theory if I were you. And _ you,” _ Moira returned her focus to Felicity with a snarl, “I believe I told you to leave. You would do well to heed me now or I will have you dragged out of this hall, so help me!” 

There was nothing for it; Felicity’s cheeks were hot with shame and she rose quickly to her feet, casting an apologetic stare Oliver’s way. He made as though to follow her but she shook her head, not wanting to make a scene; Moira would not let them leave together, that much was clear. It would be more trouble than it was worth to depart together and further enrage the woman. Mouthing an apology to Oliver before she went, Felicity fled the dining hall, leaving Oliver to Moira and her wrath, though it pained her to do so. 

She fled back to the Queen rooms and changed in a hurry, not wishing to cause further turmoil by being found here when the family returned. Stowing the dress back in its bag and sliding it beneath his bed, Felicity tried to control the quaver in her hands but there was nothing for it.

Moira Queen had rattled her. Badly. 

Without delay, she hastened from the room and back to her quarters, where she did her level best to stifle her sobs into her pillow. In one night, he had confessed to loving her and just as quickly, his mother had threatened to rip them asunder. 

\-----

When she awoke the next morning and readied herself for the day, Felicity felt thoroughly exhausted. When she stepped out of her quarters and into the hall beyond, Oliver was there waiting for her, dark circles beneath his eyes and worry in every line of his face. 

“Felicity, I am so sorry,” he began, only for her to shake her head and stop him before he could proceed. 

“Oliver, I should have known better. I _ did _know better. It was my fault for agreeing to it in the first place. I’m so sorry; I can’t imagine how angry your mother must be and how dreadful she must be acting towards you.”

At this Oliver shrugged, seemingly untroubled by his mother’s wrath.

“It is hardly the first time I have angered her and I sincerely doubt it will be the last.” The pair studied each other for a moment and then, true to form, Oliver offered her his arm. “Can I convince you to come with me to the promenade deck? I can go fetch us pastries from the dining room again. I won’t ask you to return to the scene of our crime, I promise.” He teased lightly and despite the hurt she had felt the night before, Felicity felt her heart lighten at the idea.

They’d already been caught. The worst had already happened and they’d survived relatively unscathed, or so it seemed. And what’s more? ...She had missed him. 

“I would like that.” 

Together they strolled towards First Class, quietly chattering as they made their way to the deck. As they neared the passage from Second Class to First, however, a familiar voice called out, drawing them up short as Rory came into view, blocking their way.

“I-I’m sorry Mister Queen but your ‘guest’ has been banned from First Class,” Rory explained nervously, shooting Felicity a pointed look. 

“Rory, how can that be? I’m the First Class _ Stewardess!” _Felicity pointed out anxiously and her friend shook his head uneasily. “You will want to report to Mister Steele. Your posting has been changed.” 

Felicity felt her stomach bottom out at this news and she glanced worriedly at Oliver. He had had such plans for their day but not only had those plans been dashed - so had her spirits. 

“Oliver I… I think I should go find out what’s happened,” she murmured apprehensively and he cleared his throat and nodded, doing his level best to seem collected, though she could tell he was anything but. 

“I’ll find you later. The library?” 

Of course. Because she could no longer enter First Class. She could not come to him; he would have to come to her. This was mortifying. Felicity nodded, holding back tears. 

“Hey. We will fix this. This is nothing but a minor inconvenience. No posting change can keep me from you. And this ban is nonsense. I’ll get to the bottom of it straightaway,” he vowed, touching his fingers to her chin to lift it so her eyes met his. “I swear to you, Felicity. Wild horses could not keep me from you now.” 

Smiling through teary eyes at this, she gave a sharp bob of her head and then hurried off, determined that she would not give in to her shame in front of him. Oliver had the luxury of assuming things would work out in his favor; that was what came of being born to privilege. Felicity had no such misconceptions. 

As she darted quickly through the ship, she made her way into the teeming halls of the crew passages, eventually finding her way to the Head Steward, Mister Steele. He was a hard boss, though generally fair, and Felicity had found him agreeable enough to work for thus far. She hoped that sentiment was not about to be tested. 

“Mister Steele? I was told to report to you regarding a posting change?” Felicity chirped, her voice pinched with concern. When the Head Steward turned to regard her, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Miss Smoak, do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused me today? Let me answer that for you: no. You don’t. You could not possibly fathom the work I have done today to keep you employed by the White Star Line,” Steele grumbled irritably, pulling his hand away from his face so he could regard her studiosly. In that moment, it became abundantly clear to Felicity that she was being called on the carpet and the thought made her heart race with fear. 

“I don’t know what has gotten into that head of yours but put yourself in order straightaway, young miss. Moira Queen herself demanded that you be thrown out of First Class and it has been no small amount of shuffling to replace you. Effective immediately, you are not to put so much as a toe in First Class, do I make myself clear?!” 

“Y-Yes sir,” Felicity stammered back, barely able to form words. Oliver’s _ mother _had seen to it that she was banned from First Class? Suddenly, it all made perfect, albeit frustrating, sense. 

“You are now a Stewardess for this block of Second Class rooms,” Steele explained, reaching over to a file on the nearby desk so he could fish a piece of paper from it and hand it to her. Felicity scanned the room listings, her eyes widening in surprise. This was double the number of rooms she had been assigned in First Class and each room housed four times the number of occupants. Her work load had just increased exponentially. 

“And whatever you do, do _ not _cross Mistress Queen again, do you hear me? It’ll be more than my job’s worth to stick my neck out for you again. I won’t do it. This is your second and final shot, Smoak. Don’t muck it up.” 

Nodding morosely, Felicity departed the Steward’s office and hurried to her new posting. For the ensuing hours, she was kept busy changing the sheets of a seemingly never ending number of beds, drawing up baths for those passengers who requested it, directing passengers to various accommodations, and so on and so forth. The good news was, her Second Class passengers were far less taxing in some ways than her First Class ones had been. The bad news was, there were ever so many of them, she was running herself ragged trying to tend to them all and she had far less time to get to know them as she had done with her First Class passengers. 

By the time her shift had concluded, Felicity was definitely feeling the change of pace but she consoled herself with the knowledge that, at the very least, she had not felt unfairly judged or looked down upon all day. And that… well, that was a radical improvement from the treatment she had received at Moira Queen’s hands. Not to mention, she’d actually received gratuities from her passengers today - Moira had been less than generous to Felicity during her time in First Class. 

Despite the day’s unfortunate turn, Felicity was quick to go to the Crew’s Quarters to change out of her service uniform and into a simple dark green skirt and a simple white blouse before she rushed to the library. Doubt gnawed at her heart; would Oliver be there, as he had said he would be? Or would his mother have intervened with some new designs to keep them apart? She prayed not; after today, she was keen to see him again. She missed his easy smile, the stolen moments where his hand would brush hers, all of it. Not spending her day in proximity to him was the greatest dissatisfaction to come of her new posting. But if she still was able to see him at the end of her day, she would not count all as lost. 

Pushing open the library door, Felicity held her breath as her eyes swept the room, seeking the familiar, well dressed figure of the man she was falling for entirely too quickly. Had they really been strangers less than a week ago? She felt as though she’d known him a lifetime. 

But when Felicity finished her thorough inventory of the occupants of the library, Oliver was not among their number and she felt her pulse quicken with worry. She did not fear that he had cast her aside - she could not fathom him doing such. He had said he would meet her here and she believed in him unswervingly. What she feared was the manner of obstacle that had barred him from being here waiting for her. This reeked of his mother’s interference. Felicity just had to hope that Oliver could find a way to get around the obstacle, whatever it might be. 

It was over an hour later before the library door flew open and Oliver spilled inside with an almost frenetic air about him. He looked about with urgency and when his eyes landed on her, he strode towards her without delay. 

“I am so sorry, Felicity. I tried to come sooner but my mother-” he began, only for her to cut him off with a shake of her head and a gentle finger placed to his lips.

“It’s alright, Oliver. You don’t owe me an explanation.” 

“But I do. I owe you a great deal more than that. My mother cost you your job, Felicity!” Oliver grumbled in a low whisper as they roved the library. 

“I still have a job. That is what matters.” 

“She had you banned from First Class,” Oliver pointed out, as if she could forget.

“Yes. But thankfully she lacked the clout to have me thrown off the ship while at sea. So there is hope for us yet.” Felicity offered him a playful smile, but Oliver’s rage refused to cool. Stilling beneath the disquiet on his face, she touched his cheek lightly, searching for the light in his eyes and trying to draw it out. 

“What troubles you? There’s more bothering you than your mother’s machinations in my posting change, isn’t there?.” 

His hand came up to hold hers against his face and his eyes closed as he exhaled slowly through his nose before he finally turned his gaze to hers again. The embers of his rage were still blazing beneath the ocean blue she had come to know and adore and she could feel the tense energy quivering beneath his skin. 

“My mother has taken it upon herself to reach out to a few young society women that she feels would make suitable matches for me. They’re here on the ship, traveling with their parents; they were in Paris meeting with fashion designers. They’re sisters - Laurel and Sara Lance. My mother intends to force me into formally courting one of them as soon as we are ashore.” 

Felicity felt her blood go cold and her stomach twist painfully. Here was something unexpected that she did not know how to fight; society life was entirely foreign to her, beyond what little she had observed as a servant to the well to do. But she had spent enough time in the ultra rich accommodations to have laid eyes on the Lance sisters and Felicity was keenly aware that she could in no way compete with them - in prestige, breeding, looks, or any other manner of competition that mattered to the likes of society’s elite, she was woefully outnumbered by the pair. 

“I-I see,” Felicity choked out, swallowing back the hurt. Of course. She should have known better than to give her heart to a man like Oliver, who she could never hope to have. It had been a foolish, childish thing to do. But she’d done it nonetheless and she was in utter agony at the idea of letting him go so he could marry an heiress deemed ‘up to snuff’ for a man such as him. 

“I-I should have known… Oliver it’s alright, I know I’m an unsuitable match for you,” she rambled tearily, trying and failing to stifle the tears already overwhelming her. “I just… I just want you to be happy.” 

And that was the hardest part of it all; though she had fallen in love with him, she wanted his happiness above her own. And if his mother was going to make his life hell until and unless he agreed to marry a girl his mother approved of, Felicity would not stand in the way. She just wanted Oliver to have a shred of the joy he had brought her these last few days. 

Oliver snapped to attention, his brows furrowed with anger as he grabbed her by both wrists. 

“I am happy with _ you, _Felicity. And if you think for a second I would allow myself to be cowed into choosing another over you, then I have failed to make clear the nature of my feelings for you.” 

One hand trailed up her arm and tilted her chin up to his as he drew nearer, his eyes sparking with mischief and enthusiasm. 

“I love_ you, _ Felicity Smoak. And not even my mother’s best meddling can change that.”

With that, he pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to her lips but the simple act sent Felicity’s body into a spiral. Her nerves seemed to explode with the sensation and once more, she experienced the fireworks she had felt upon their first meeting. 

Already, they had experienced so much together - sneaking off the ship in France, sharing the public garden in Cherbourg together. Disembarking in Ireland and drinking in a pub. Endless hours of conversation and meals together. She’d spilled her guts to him and he had done the same. And such bonds as that were not the sort to be easily forgotten or cast aside. 

The idea that the strict limitations and expectations of his mother, her job, and society at large would try to part them? It made her furious. Why did it matter what she had been born into? Why did the content of her heart not matter more than the content of her bank account or her wardrobe? Felicity felt frustration and anger welling within her. Convention and propriety be damned, _ she loved him. _Why should anything matter in the face of that?! Why did rank and circumstance, privilege and class, mean more than the all consuming affection she held for him? Why was the dark dress and the crisp white apron she wore more important than the way she sought to bring light to his life ? Would a society girl do the same? Would an heiress’ bank account soothe his broken heart or wipe away his tears? 

The simple answer was: no. 

A society girl might be prim and proper and appropriate. But a society girl would never be able to appreciate the way his hands curled and he rubbed his fingers when he was nervous or uncertain. Another woman would not commit to memory the many phases and stages of his smiles, or note the genuine ones that reached his eyes, as opposed to the forced ones which did not. Anyone else would see him as a QUEEN first and Oliver second, whereas he would always be simply Oliver to her, his family name and associated titles always an afterthought compared with the greatest gift of all - _ him. _

“What are you going to do?” Felicity asked, when her rage had abated enough that she could string syllables together coherently. 

“I don’t know. I must devise some way of rendering my mother’s schemes useless.” 

“That’s a tall order. Your mother is a calculating woman.” 

“Indeed,” he grimaced and offered her his hand, which she happily took, propriety be damned. Together, they strolled through the library, never once stopping to look at the available titles. After they’d done a full circuit of the place Oliver paused and turned to face her, an impish smile on his lips. 

“Marry me?” He sighed and Felicity very nearly fainted in shock. And there were a million reasons why this was a bad idea. Not the least of which was he was probably joking. But in that moment, Felicity didn’t care. She loved him. And though it was probably foolish and naive of her to think it, she was becoming increasingly certain that he was the man she had been destined to find. 

“Alright.”

Oliver went stock still against her and the look on his face became one of complete surprise.

“Truly?” 

“You seem shocked. Were you not serious?” Felicity queried, suddenly feeling incredibly self conscious. Just as quickly, however, Oliver shook his head and took both her hands in his. 

“No! I meant it! I just…I had not dared to hope you would actually agree to do so.” 

Foolish man. Her face split into a smile and she shook her head at him. 

“I love you, Oliver. You loon. How could I say no?” 

“They’ll be furious with us,” he pointed out and Felicity turned over this likelihood in her mind. His mother. Her boss. Society at large. All would oppose that which they had just agreed to do. They would be breaking every social convention, every societal norm, every classist unspoken law. 

And she loved it. 

This. This felt like purpose and it already was sparking hope in her. His mother could not keep them apart if they were bound together by law and by God. And society could not rent asunder that which marriage had brought together. If they did this… they would be flying in the face of every rule they had been forced to listen to all of their lives but most especially in this last week. 

Felicity was not ordinarily one to fly in the face of authority or anything else for that matter. But to do so now would be… sublime.

“Then let them be furious. Yes, Oliver. I will marry you - if you’ll have me.” 

“I will have you every day from now until eternity,” Oliver answered her eagerly, grinning boyishly as he gave her hand a gentle tug. “Come on. There’s a Reverend on the ship. I heard the boys in the Second Class Smoking Room talking about him yesterday. His name is Harper.” 

“You mean to go through with this _ tonight?!” _She exclaimed in surprise and Oliver nodded, his eyes bright as he stared at her. 

“Yes. I don’t want to spend another minute not being married to you.” 

At that, she could only smile at him in quiet disbelief and joy. She was going to marry him - _ tonight. _

Together, they weaved through the bustling halls of the ship until they found a group of men who knew the Reverend in question and were kind enough to direct the pair to his room. Knocking upon the door, however, they were greeted by none other than a young girl, who blinked sleepily up at them. 

The couple shared a surprised look and Oliver glanced once more at the child with a touch of nerves. Sensing his hesitation, Felicity took over, kneeling down to get on the girl’s level. 

“Hello there! My name is Felicity. This is Oliver. What’s your name?” 

The girl studied the two for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes before she yawned and it was lost. 

“Annie.” 

“Annie. That’s a lovely name. Well Annie, we were looking for Reverend Harper - is this his room?”

The child nodded, rubbing her eyes as she studied Felicity with interest. 

“That’s my papa. He’s on the deck, with my cousin Jessie,” the girl explained sleepily. Felicity beamed at her, gently patting the child’s shoulder. 

“Thank you, Annie. Thank you very much.” 

As the youth closed the door behind her, Felicity straightened and shared a knowing glance with Oliver. He took her hand in his once more and they were off, racing for the Second Class deck. They dashed out into the evening air together, breathless and laughing as they glanced around, searching for the man in question. They stopped at every man and woman pair they encountered, inquiring after the Reverend. And then, at long last, they found him at the ship’s railing, taking in the sunset with the aforementioned cousin Jessie. 

“Reverend Harper?” Oliver’s voice rose over the soft sound of the ocean below and the quiet hum of activity on the deck. The Reverend spun to look at them at the sound of his name. He was a wiry man with dark, thinning hair and a full moustache. 

“Yes? And you are?” 

“Oliver. And this is my fiancée, Felicity.” Oliver explained and Felicity felt her heart nearly convulse with joy as Oliver referred to her as such. It wasn’t really wrong - he had asked her to marry him and she had said yes. That did rather make them each other’s intended. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Felicity murmured deferentially, inclining her head to the Reverend and his niece. 

“We had hoped we might ask you to do us a small favor, Reverend,” Oliver continued to explain, shifting his weight from foot to foot with eagerness. “We...We would like to be married. Tonight. And we were hoping you could assist us.” 

The Reverend stared at the pair in surprise, clearly taken aback by this request. His eyes swept over them thoughtfully and he pursed his lips in thought before he spoke. 

“How long have you been engaged?” 

Inwardly, Felicity winced but Oliver took the question in stride. 

“Reverend, in truth, we have not been together long. And we’ve been engaged for even less time. But no amount of waiting can change how I feel about Felicity. Everything else in the world may change but my feelings for her? That never will.”

The Reverend’s eyebrows raised but he otherwise gave no outward indication in favor or against the pair of hopeful young lovers. Instead, he turned his attention to Felicity.

“And you, young miss. You feel the same?” 

Felicity allowed her gaze to linger on Oliver as she responded to the Reverend’s question. 

“I am convinced that I was meant to find Oliver. And I wish nothing more than to be married to him.” Felicity avowed softly, glorying in the way Oliver’s eyes glistened as she confirmed her own desire to be wed to him. 

Chuckling, the Reverend glanced at his niece and then shrugged his shoulders before clapping Oliver on the back. 

“I want you both to take time to sit with this decision - alone, not with each other. Marriage is not something to be rushed into and it should only be undertaken by those seriously prepared for the commitment and work that accompanies it. If, after spending time to think on things, you still truly desire this, find me this evening. I will be at the C-Level Promenade Deck for Second Class. There, we will see about giving you that which you desire.” 

With a nod to Felicity, the Reverend and his niece took their leave, while Oliver and Felicity lingered at the ship’s rail, staring at each other in disbelief before they both broke out into wide smiles. 

“Did you hear that? Tonight! On the Promenade Deck!” Oliver crowed, taking her into his arms and spinning them around in a circle as she laughed freely in his arms. 

“Tonight. On the Promenade Deck,” she repeated, smiling as she brushed a hand against his cheek fondly. “Until then… I need to go do my evening rounds for my assigned rooms. And you-”

“-need to avoid my mother. I’ll go to the Smoking Room until it is time to meet the Reverend,” Oliver assured her, smiling as he held her by the waist. “The next time we see each other, we will be getting married. Are you still certain you wish to do this?” 

“As certain as the moon will rise.” Felicity returned tenderly, rising onto the tips of her toes to press a kiss on his cheek. “I will see you tonight. And when I do, I shall call you ‘Husband’.” She reminded him softly, smiling as a shiver raced down his spine at her words. With a backwards grin, she disappeared into the ship, leaving Oliver to his own devices. 

In the face of her imminent nuptials, Felicity found it difficult to focus on her work and time seemed to pass horribly slow. But as she went about her tasks and the ever expanding list of duties expected of her given her new position, she found she could not be upset by any of it.

She was going to marry Oliver tonight. Nothing and no one could diminish her joy in that. 

\-----

When she finished with her duties and made her way to the appointed place, she found him waiting for her just outside the entrance to the C-Level Promenade Deck. When she saw him, Felicity felt as though the sun had been turned on; her entire body flooded with warmth and she thought her cheeks might go stiff from smiling overmuch. 

Upon seeing her, his reaction seemed to be much the same as hers. And when he offered her his hand, she took it without hesitation.

“I wanted to speak to you before we went in and found the Reverend,” Oliver began, staring at her attentively. “I know this was something I suggested on a lark but I swear to you, Felicity, that I have never been more serious about anything in my life. I wish to marry you - if you will have me.” 

“Oliver, we may have undertaken this impetuously but I have never been more certain of anything in my life. I want to marry you,” she confirmed and he seemed to deflate as tension gushed out of him and relief flooded in. 

“Then let’s not keep the Reverend waiting, shall we?” 

Already it was late; the Deck was empty save for the Reverend. Often utilized as a play space for children, the glass enclosed C-Level Promenade Deck was still exquisitely beautiful as they made their way across it to where the Reverend was working on what looked to be a sermon. He smiled as he heard them approach, not taking his eyes from the Bible in his hands. 

“Am I correct to assume that you both have decided to go forth with exchanging your vows of marriage?” 

“Yes, Reverend.” 

“Very well then.” With a crisp snap, he closed the journal beside him and instead, flipped through the bible until he seemed to land upon what he had been looking for. Turning to regard the pair, he smiled serenely. 

“I would like to begin with a reading from the Apostle Paul in the First Epistle to the Corinthians: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” 

The Reverend paused and looked at the pair who stood before him hand in hand. Felicity thought her heart might burst right out of her chest as it drummed within her loudly, almost drowning out the Reverend’s words. 

She was really doing this. She was marrying Oliver. 

“Father, as Oliver and Felicity pledge themselves to each other, we ask that you help them. We ask that you bless them, that their love may be pure and that their love and their vows may be true.”

Felicity was lost in Oliver’s eyes as the Reverend continued speaking; it was not until he asked them to exchange their vows that Felicity felt every fiber of her being focus on Oliver with wholehearted devotion. 

“Felicity, before you, I was lost. I had nothing in my life that I wanted to remember and a host of things I wanted to forget. But you… you changed everything. And since I have met you, I have endeavored to be the best version of myself - because of and for _ you. _ You make me a better person, Felicity. And if you will be my wife, I promise you that I will spend every day striving to be a man worthy of all that you are. When we first met, you said you wanted to see the world and together, we’ve seen France and Ireland and soon, we’ll see America. But I knew very early on that the world as I knew it had changed in some inexplicable way after I had met you. I didn’t know how, I just knew that it had. And today, I know what the difference is. Today, I know that the world as I know it is gone because now? My entire world is... _ you. _” 

She was left speechless by his vow and it was all she could do to get her own throat working again as she stared up into Oliver’s eyes. 

“Oliver, before I met you I had no purpose. No meaning. And no faith in myself. My dreams were far-off universes that I didn’t believe I would or could ever achieve. And then you came sweeping into my life and you gave me purpose. You gave my life meaning. You showed more faith in me than I had ever had in myself and through your example, I found courage. You… You make me the very best version of myself. You make me see myself as something more than ‘just a stewardess’. You make me believe in love that really can conquer all. On the day we met, there was something about you, something I couldn’t place. You were so familiar and right away I felt so safe and so drawn to you. Perhaps it’s a girlish fantasy but I… I believe I was fated to meet you. And that your soul and my soul are destined for each other. You are my soulmate. My love. And I will spend the rest of my life being the very best wife that I can be to you.” 

The remainder of the ceremony (if one could call it that) went by in a flash; in short order, Reverend Harper asked for the ring and Felicity was surprised when Oliver produced a simple gold circle and slipped it upon her finger with a smile. 

And then, as simple as that, the Reverend called for them to kiss and Felicity found Oliver sweeping her into his embrace, his hands cupping her face as they exchanged a delighted but respectful kiss before the Reverend. 

As they broke apart, the Reverend congratulated them and told Oliver he would still need to procure a wedding license when they reached America, but that in the eyes of God, Felicity and Oliver were as man and wife. 

They thanked the Reverend up and down but in short order they departed the Promenade Deck, racing through the mostly empty halls without fear or concern for who saw them. 

_ They were married. _Felicity’s heart skipped a beat every time she thought of the fact that Oliver was now her husband and she, his wife. Together, they zigged and zagged across the ship, too enthused to formulate a plan beyond running after one another like a couple of children. Eventually, however, Felicity knew they would need to either part for the night, or figure out other accommodations; thankfully, she had given that some thought during her evening duties tending to her passengers. 

Arm in arm, they moved down the hall of second class cabins, unable to stifle the joyous giggles that they’d been full of ever since they had officially been pronounced man and wife not half an hour ago. As they reached the end of the hallway, nearest to the grand staircase, Felicity grew suddenly sober as she pressed a finger to her lips. From her bag, she withdrew a single key and held it before her discreetly. 

Frowning down at her in confusion, Oliver started to ask her a question but she shook her head, effectively silencing him. 

As he watched, she fitted the key into the door and turned it, revealing the room just beyond. When she stole inside, Oliver followed obediently after her, only for her to close and lock the door behind them, going so far as to even throw the chain. 

“There we are,” she sighed as she stared contentedly at the door before turning to look at him with a pleased grin. Cocking his head to the side, Oliver couldn’t help but wonder.

“Where are we and what are we doing here, Felicity?” 

She couldn’t meet his gaze but even still, he could see the distinctive blush rising in her cheeks. 

“Well, your mother’s had me banned from First Class. So we can’t be together in your room. And there certainly isn’t any privacy to be had in the Crew’s Quarters. But this ship is only at half her capacity for passengers. So that means there is an abundance of empty rooms… such as this one,” Felicity smiled, gesturing to the room around them, her eyes sparkling with mischief. 

Finally catching on in earnest, Oliver inhaled slowly and held his breath as he processed what Felicity was getting at. For the first time, they had their privacy - they were well and truly alone. Work would not steal her away, nor would his family interrupt them. They had an entire night and an entire room to themselves and their entire future before them. 

The thought made his heart beat a little quicker. 

“It’s just you and me,” he grinned, moving closer to her and cupping her face between his hands. “Are you certain you can bear to be alone with me?” 

In response, she rolled her eyes and shook her head at him as she chuckled. 

“You are quite the Wisenheimer, you know that?” 

“I have been told, yes.” 

Felicity was still chortling quietly when Oliver framed her waist with his hands and leaned into her, his lips hovering just above hers. 

“Do you regret marrying me then, Wisenheimer that I am?” 

Her eyes flashed as she pressed her lips together in a closed mouth smirk, shaking her head slowly at him as she rolled her eyes for added emphasis. 

“I don’t regret a thing. I suppose that makes me Mrs. Wisenheimer, doesn’t it?”

In response, Oliver hummed contentedly against her, his nose brushing hers faintly as he smiled down at her.

“_Mrs. _ I like the sound of that for you. _ Mrs. Felicity Queen _,” he sighed, delighting in the way her whole body seemed to vibrate beneath his touch as Felicity all but purred happily back at him. 

“Oliver Queen’s _ wife,” _ she sighed and Oliver felt as though lightning had gone surging through his veins at the very sound of it. Wife. She was his _ wife _. 

“Felicity Queen’s _ husband,” _ he answered back delightedly, watching her eyes spark and flash at his words. Unable to resist, Oliver angled his head towards her to catch her lips and pressed a sharp kiss to them, eager and wanting. When he pulled back from her a moment later, he saw she was still flushed and looking pleasantly dazed. 

Still holding each other, their faces so close they were nearly touching, the pair regarded each other tenderly and Oliver could feel some of the tension and uncertainty building. Felicity had brought them here, to this room, where they could be alone together. And while Oliver knew that _ he _had certain hopes as to where that would lead, he was not about to rush her. And as they remained in each other’s arms, he could feel the strain in her posture and he could see her nerves written on her face. 

It was then that the idea struck him. Smiling at her, he took a step away (though in truth, all he wanted was to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless). As she frowned at him and tilted her head to the side in confusion, he just shook his head at her and smiled, offering her his open palm face up. Then, as she watched, he crooked a single finger at her, beckoning her to him.

“Oliver,” she began to question him, confusion in her voice, “-what are you doing?” Felicity pressed him, even as her hand slipped neatly through his. She might be curious as to their destination but Oliver knew, she wasn’t questioning _ him _. She was questioning the process. 

“Traditionally, the bride and groom share a first dance as man and wife. And though this room is perfect in so many ways, I think we need a bit more space for me to twirl you around like a proper gentleman would do for his lady. So come on. Let me dance you around the deck.” 

In answer, Felicity beamed at him and nodded enthusiastically, her hand warm in his as they unlocked the door and scurried back into the hall. The ship was largely quiet given the late hour - already it was after eleven and few passengers were about. Carefree and festive, they ran hand in hand down the halls and made their way out onto the deck. 

The cold night air hit Oliver hard, his breath leaving him in great clouds of vapor as he and Felicity reached their destination. Turning to look at her, he laughed loudly, for the plumes of smoke from their breathing had ringed her in a halo that the lights from the ship’s interior illuminated most beautifully. 

She looked like an angel. The very sight nearly took his breath away.

“May I have this dance?” Oliver asked at last when he was recovered from the sight of her, so lovely and so soft. He held his hands before him questioningly and without delay, she pressed her body against his and took his hand.

“You absolutely may.” 

He spun her slowly around the deck, marveling in the simple joy of holding her freely and without fear of reprimand. His mother was going to make their lives utterly miserable for a time once she found out about the marriage. But once they docked in America, it wouldn’t matter. Felicity was his wife and not heaven or hell or Moira Queen would tear them asunder.

Time was meaningless on the deck; Oliver had no concept of the passing minutes or of the cold. Felicity’s proximity and the movement of their dancing kept him warm despite the freezing air. The sight of her, rosy cheeked and jubilant before him, was so pleasing that he couldn’t resist kissing her. And throughout their prolonged dance card, they _ kept _ kissing. What started as a soft and gentle exchange slowly built to something more. And as his heart began to flutter with eager, anxious nerves, Oliver found his mouth trailing away from hers and down her neck, prompting Felicity to make a breathy little noise that was like a dose of adrenaline to his heart. 

“Oliver,” the sound of his name falling from her lips made his blood heat and his heart pound. “Let’s go back to our room?” The soft lilt at the end of her words framed it as a question and Oliver felt his mind nearly short circuit at the implication. He had just pressed a final kiss to the base of her throat and drawn back to meet her eyes when a metallic screech seemed to set the night air on fire.

Oliver’s grip on Felicity grew tight and he tried to draw himself over her protectively as his eyes darted about in search of the source of the noise. It was only as his eyes swung about that he saw the ship’s starboard side, up closer to the bow, scraping against a massive iceberg. He had not seen the hulking, floating giant minutes ago; it had seemingly materialized from out of nowhere only to appear and claw at the ship’s side. Cradling Felicity against him, Oliver watched as the ship barreled onward, the iceberg showering splinters of ice down upon the vessel and the deck below. Oliver drew Felicity backward with him to seek shelter against the wall, as far from the ship’s edge and the passing iceberg as they could reasonably get. The ship shuddered but continued onward, seemingly unimpeded. When the Titanic had finally passed by the white chunk of frozen debris, Oliver straightened, still holding Felicity flush against him. 

“O-Oliver,” she began, her voice and body trembling with fear. Eager to reassure her, he touched her face gently with one hand and held her waist with the other. 

“Just an iceberg. That’s normal, this time of year.” 

“But we… we _ hit it!” _Felicity stammered and Oliver winked at her.

“We _ glanced _against it. The crew was able to swing us out of the way of the worst of it. And remember, the ship’s unsinkable, Felicity! My father is friends with the architect. He assured us just the other day, this is the finest ship to sail on any of the seven seas.” Oliver was trying his level best to reassure her but in truth? The encounter had rattled him as well. Determined to salvage their night, however, he struck upon an idea.

“What if I go over to the bridge and speak with the Captain? I’ll find out what’s happened. If anything’s amiss, the crew will tell me and I’ll come fetch you. Would that put your mind at ease?” 

Felicity considered his plan for a moment and then nodded, relaxing against him as she did so. 

“Thank you,” she sighed and Oliver smiled.

“It is my duty as your husband to keep you safe. And to keep you from worrying needlessly.” He winked again and took her hand in his as he pressed a reassuring kiss to her lips. 

Together, they made their way back inside the ship and stole back into their commandeered honeymoon quarters. When he had made certain that she was comfortable and calm, he pressed a kiss to her cheek in parting. He couldn’t help himself - he wanted to kiss her from now until the end of the world.

“I will be back soon. Wait for me,” he pleaded and she beamed up at him through her nerves.

“Always.” 

With a last, lingering look at her, Oliver disappeared back into the hall, determined to be as swift as possible in his travels. He did not like the thought of leaving his new bride alone and worried. And he certainly did not relish the idea of being parted from her arms on their wedding night, when all he wanted was to wrap her up in his embrace and never let her go. 

He slipped unnoticed through the mostly empty halls of the ship. Here and there he encountered other passengers or crew members but by and large, the ship was empty, the souls aboard her mostly asleep. Had he himself been in bed, the collision would not have woken him, so minor had it felt, even standing on the deck as it occurred. With every stride towards the bridge, Oliver was confident that the ship was not in peril and that he would soon be back with Felicity. But while he was away from her, he had ideas as to what else he might gain, besides information from the crew. 

As he trotted jauntily up to the bridge, Oliver focused on the task at hand.

The Captain was not present on the bridge; instead, Oliver saw the man he had met earlier, the First Officer… Murdoch! That had been his name. Slipping into his stately, heir facade, Oliver offered a charming smile as he poked his head inside the room where the crew members were flitting to and fro. 

“Mister Murdoch! Just the man I was looking for. I was on the deck when we scraped that iceberg. I’ve a lovely young lady I quite care about, who is rather concerned about the state of the ship. She won’t be able to rest until I can assure her that it’s fine. Care to tell me that it is so I might get back to enjoying my evening with her?” Oliver explained smoothly, offering a rogue wink and a grin.

He was known for being a rich flirt. He might as well play to that reputation now in the hopes they would take him for a well-to-do idiot and tell him what he was asking after. The man in question barely looked up from whatever it was he was studying on the table before him, casting a cursory glance Oliver’s way before averting his eyes.

“Mister Queen, it was a glancing blow. Nothing to concern yourself with. The Titanic is designed to survive far worse than that. She can withstand having entire compartments completely flooded and still stay afloat. We’re as fine as fine can be, sir,” Murdoch dismissed Oliver, still intently studying the materials before him. “Best carry on to your rooms and try to enjoy your night.” 

Oliver needed no further persuading. 

“Marvelous. Thank you Mister Murdoch!”

Eager to return to his waiting bride, Oliver failed to notice the worried look that passed between Murdoch and the man beside him. Nor did he see the papers spread before the two men, which showed the blueprints for the inner workings of the Titanic’s metal underbelly. Perhaps if he had, Oliver might have been less inclined to believe the two crewmen, both of whom were doing their level best not to incite a panic, despite the rising sense of fear within them.

But Oliver did not notice. And he did not see. And so, he ducked back out into the cold night air, grinning under the mistaken belief that the ship was fine. 

Oliver badly wanted to return directly to Felicity, to ease her worried mind and to hold her close. But before he could do either of those things, there was one stop Oliver knew he had to make. And though it irked him to do so, he found his feet carrying him further from his bride and instead, towards the first class accommodations. 

With relative ease and only two instances of backtracking, Oliver weaved his way to the door of the first class room his parents had bought and paid for in his name. Oliver was keenly aware that his family would more than likely be in the adjoining rooms and sleeping; entering now risked an altercation if he woke them. But he also knew that the thing he desired to give to Felicity as a wedding gift could only be found within the family’s rooms.

Thankfully, it was in _ his _room, of the three interconnected lodgings that the Queen family had purchased aboard the Titanic. And if he could make it in and out of the room undiscovered, Oliver believed he could be back to Felicity in ten minutes. 

Which meant he could be kissing her in ten minutes and a few seconds. 

Spurred forward by the memory of her lips on his and the sound of her voice as she’d asked him to take her back to their room, Oliver was so wrapped up in his thoughts that as he opened the door to his room, he did not notice that the lights were already on. Not until the door had closed behind him and he’d taken a step inside did he realize what he had walked into. 

His mother was sitting primly in one of the well ornamented chairs, staring coldly at him from her vantage across the room with an expression of anger and disappointment. 

“Well. I see you’ve finally decided to join us. Although I admit, I am surprised you don’t have the maid on your arm,” Moira growled pointedly as she rose from her chair to survey her son and Oliver could feel his grasp on his temper slipping. 

“Felicity is a First Class Stewardess, or she _ was _until you intervened and had her banned from First Class,” Oliver grumbled in a protective undertone as he glared daggers back at his mother. “And just so we’re clear - I’m not here to join you. I’m getting something out of my room and then I’ll be going back to Felicity.” 

At this, Moira Queen brought an open palm to smack loudly against the table top.

“This has gone on long enough. I thought having her removed from First Class would put an end to things but I see quite clearly that is not the case. It would appear more drastic measures are necessary to pry you out of that floozy’s arms.” 

It was this last that did Oliver in; his mother calling Felicity a floozy was more than he could take. 

“That is _ enough! _” Oliver’s rage gushed out of him with unexpected force as he glared down his mother. 

“Is it enough, Oliver? I thought you would at least be able to keep yourself out of trouble for the duration of the voyage. Is it so much to ask that you not dally with the help? Spending the night with her? Have you no sense of decency? What will the other passengers say? Unlike the girl, _ you _actually have a reputation to worry about. And your reputation reflects upon this family!” Moira volleyed back at him, her own rage matching his. 

“If it is reputations you are worrying about, you needn’t. Felicity and I have done nothing untoward.” Oliver argued, doing his level best to rein in his anger. 

“Oh, I find that _ very _hard to believe.”

“Believe it. Felicity is a lady and I have treated her as such.” 

“My son, the bonehead, actually believes that the stewardess is a _ lady; _I can’t even say I’m surprised Oliver. You’re going to get yourself into trouble with this one. She’s going to do you in when she double crosses you.” Moira warned and Oliver finally snapped.

“That is my wife you are talking about!” Oliver roared, his chest heaving as his hands balled into fists at his sides. In an instant, all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room and his mother looked at him with wide, glossy eyes. All the anger had been extinguished from her gaze and in its place, sorrow and disbelief flooded in as Moira Queen shook her head faintly. 

Before the Queen matriarch could speak, however, the sound of a door opening drew both her and her son up. Standing in the doorway that adjoined her quarters to her brother’s, Thea blinked in the lamplight as she took in the scene before her with sleepy uncertainty. 

“What’s going on? I heard yelling…” She trailed off as she took in the murderous expression on Oliver’s face and the unhappy lines of her mother’s. Moving swiftly to his sister’s side, Oliver sought to reassure her. 

“Nothing, Thea. Just a disagreement between Mother and I.” 

“Did you… Did I hear you say ‘wife’? Oliver… did you _ marry _Felicity?!” Thea gaped in surprise and Oliver shifted anxiously in front of her. He might not care what his mother thought of his choices, but he desperately wanted his sister’s support. Oliver knew, however, that he was not likely to get it; Thea was only wild to a point - beyond that, she was a conventional girl who had strong opinions on things such as appropriate matches. 

“Yes Oliver, please tell us. Have you really been so foolish as to _ marry _that girl, or were you simply trying to get a rise out of me?” From across the room, Moira Queen was ever regal, though in that moment she bore a distinct resemblance to a bird with its feathers ruffled. Her voice was quiet but with a dangerous edge that Oliver recognized all too well. Straightening before her, he threw out his jaw and puffed up his chest as he glanced from his mother to his sister and then back again.

“You heard me. Felicity is my wife now. And you _ will not _speak of her in that manner.” 

“Oliver, how could you do this?! That girl does not have so much as a jitney to her name and you went off and _ married her? _” Moira gasped, appalled. 

“You dingbat. Who gets married on a ship at sea under cover of night? Now you don’t get cake or presents,” his sister teased, though Oliver could see worry and surprise in her eyes. But bless her, Thea was trying to be supportive. And that meant the world to him. 

“I don’t care how much money she has, mother. I love her and I know beyond doubt that she loves me as well. And as for the cake and the presents…” he rolled his shoulders as he smiled down at his sister before encompassing her in a hug. “Felicity is the only gift that I need. But I do intend to have a proper ceremony once we reach New York. She deserves that.”

“ENOUGH!” 

Both Queen children whipped their heads to face their mother, who was breathing heavily with obvious rage at this point. 

“You can doll up that girl all that you like, but at the end of the day she doesn’t belong in our world, Oliver. And if you think that your father and I will bankroll a wedding so that you can gussy up the help and parade her in front of our friends and family, you are very much mistaken.” 

“I don’t recall saying _ you _would be invited to the ceremony,” Oliver stated in a quiet voice that had an explosive impact on the room. Thea sucked in a surprised little breath and Moira’s eyes flared and flashed angrily. No one moved and no one spoke for some long moments as mother and son stared each other down. 

Finally, Oliver stepped away from Thea and walked to the steamer trunk at the foot of his bed and began to rifle through it. When, at last, his fingers enclosed upon the ring box, he smiled and withdrew it victoriously. Perhaps he was doing things out of order, but Felicity deserved a beautiful engagement ring. And his family had an heirloom to spare. 

As he was about to pocket the ring box, however, Moira began to come out of her shocked, furious stupor and she strode across the room to put a hand on his, staying him.

“You are _ not _going to give a priceless family treasure to that girl, Oliver. Do you hear me? I would rather see it at the bottom of the ocean than upon her hand!” 

He wrenched away from his mother roughly, his anger flaring once more.

“You gave me this to give to the woman I chose to marry. I made my choice. You don’t get to take this back just because you don’t approve of it.” 

Shaking free of her, Oliver marched for the door of the room, only to be brought up short by his mother’s voice. 

“Oliver if you walk out that door, you are walking away from your family and from your inheritance. Either you stay and we see about having this entire mess annulled, or you go and lose your trust fund, your inheritance, everything you’ve ever stood to gain from this family. So tell me, Oliver: is this girl really worth falling into abject poverty for, or have you now been made to see reason?” 

Oliver closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose once, holding the breath in his chest to steady himself before he exhaled it slowly. Turning to his sister, he embraced her fiercely and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“I love you, Thea. I will write to you when I have an address for you to reach me at. Until then… I shall miss you, sister. Behave yourself in New York.” 

Turning on his heel, Oliver did not so much as acknowledge his mother as he made for the door and stormed out of the room. As the door closed behind him, he leaned heavily against it, hating that his mother could not be made to see reason. 

That was her problem, however. Not his. Doing his level best to shake off the altercation with his mother, Oliver strode down the hall, too swept up in his lingering rage towards his mother and his eagerness to be reunited with Felicity to notice the stewards knocking on the First Class doors just a short way down from his family’s quarters. 

The only thing that mattered presently was Felicity. And he was hellbent on getting back to her without further delay. Reaching his fingers into his jacket pocket, he felt the small ring box nestled there and smiled. 

She would look lovely, wearing the Queen family ring upon her finger. And whatever his mother might say or do, she could not change one simple fact: 

Felicity was a Queen now and forevermore. 

With eager steps, Oliver made his way back outside and down the staircase that led to the Second Class quarters. As he went, however, he noticed a small smattering of crew members by the lifeboats, uncovering them with unhurried motions. Swerving off his course, Oliver approached a nearby steward, his eyes wide with sudden concern. 

“What’s this? I thought the ship was fine? Are we in trouble?” 

The steward, a man who looked to be a bit older than Oliver, smiled and shook his head. 

“Not at all sir, just a drill to my knowledge. We were due to have one yesterday but the captain canceled it. I suspect this is just a show of good form. It wouldn’t do well to have bad publicity for the maiden voyage and the Captain can offset the iceberg with a bit of good publicity about having prepared with drills.”

Oliver surveyed the lifeboats once more and then nodded. Murdoch had said all was well. The brush with the iceberg had only felt like a bit of a shudder. And Felicity was waiting for him. The thought of how he had left her was enough to spur him to depart with haste, convinced that they were safe and with his curiosity sated. 

As he hurried through the halls of the ship, he checked his pocket watch for the time. Already it was nearly twelve fifteen; he had left her some half hour ago. With ever increasing urgency, he made his way until he came hurrying down the grand staircase and to their door, which he knocked on confidently. 

The door opened a crack before him, enough for him to catch a glimpse of blonde hair and a shy smile before she closed the door on him. There was a scrabbling sound as she threw the chain and then the door flung open to admit him, Felicity beaming happily before him. 

“You have been gone entirely too long,” Felicity gushed as she framed his face with both her hands, effusive joy radiating from her. 

“I agree. Allow me to apologize. Profusely.” Oliver grinned, leaning down to capture her lips with his. The kiss was fast and enthusiastic and he broke it off before either of them could move to deepen it, much though he wanted to. Oliver knew his restraint was delicate at best and before he tested the limits of it, he wanted to give her that which he had detoured to find. 

“We sideswiped the iceberg but the ship is fine. This is the Titanic, Felicity! She’s unsinkable!” Oliver beamed as he swept her up into his arms and closed the door to their stolen quarters behind him. 

“Oliver, that iceberg was huge! And you felt the impact it had on the ship, just as I did. Are you quite certain it’s alright?” Felicity’s uncertainty and worry hung over the air and he was eager to reassure his wife. _ His wife _. He was never going to grow weary of calling her that. 

“Positive. No one on the bridge showed the slightest bit of alarm when I spoke with them. The collision was loud, but the ship barely shuddered. They’ve uncovered the lifeboats as a precaution, but one of the crew told me we were due to have a lifeboat drill yesterday morning and the Captain called it off,” Oliver explained calmly as he spun the pair of them around the room, delighting in her quiet giggle as he did so.

“Oliver!” The syllables of his name fell from her lips amidst laughter and he slowly brought them to a stop and set her down, smiling at her as he did so.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it? The Captain hasn’t had the best start to the maiden voyage of his unsinkable ship; he cancels a scheduled drill and not a day later we scuff an iceberg. He’s probably going to catch it from his superiors, so he’s looking to minimize the damage by following through on the drill, just a bit later than planned,” Oliver reasoned and Felicity considered this for a moment, still not fully convinced. 

“I don’t know, Oliver. Perhaps we should go take part in the drill, just to be safe…” she trailed off with a hint of distress in her tone. Seeking to reassure her, Oliver held her fast by the waist, not at all eager to partake in any activity which took them from the privacy of their stolen room. 

“Felicity,” he murmured in a low tone. “I didn’t just go to the ship’s bridge while I was gone.” He changed the subject quickly and he could see by the way she cocked her head in surprise, it was working; he was distracting her. 

“Where did you go?” 

“To my family’s quarters. For this.” 

Without delay, he sank down onto one knee and she gasped softly as he produced the ring box and opened it to reveal the stunning diamond ring within. He held it before her for her appraisal and silently said a prayer that she would like the heirloom. 

“Felicity, will you marry me?” 

She had folded her hands before her in surprise and now she pressed her face to her hands as she tried to steady her breathing. Clearly, he’d caught her completely off guard. Good. He’d wanted to surprise her. 

“I thought I already answered that question?” 

Oliver swallowed thickly, so completely in love with her in that moment that he was afraid to break the reverie of her joy with the discordant notes of reality that he had endured in their time apart. 

“Before you say yes again though, you need to know… My mother she… Felicity she threatened to disown me if I committed to this marriage. If she does that… I will not have a penny to my name. I can offer you nothing but the love in my heart,” he explained thickly, his heart hammering with worry. Every woman he had ever entertained at debutante balls and the like would have turned immediately away from him at these words.

But Felicity was not every woman. 

She sank to her knees before him, worried and tender fingers touching lightly upon his face. 

“Oliver, I cannot ask you to turn your back on your family for me.” 

“You have not asked it. But I will turn my back on them - or at least my parents - but only if you will still have me, penniless and all.” 

“Oliver, I would have you if you were penniless, I would have you if it meant living in a box, I would have you even if it meant trading every other comfort life had to offer. I would choose you a thousand times over, without question,” she chattered in a throaty whisper and Oliver felt as though he might keel over from the joy of hearing this affirmation. When he put his hands out before him expectantly, she gave him her left hand and watched as he slipped the gemstone upon her ring finger. 

“I love you,” he exhaled as he held her newly adorned hand in his, his eyes shining as he stared at her in awe. She was his wife. His _ wife _. When they finally left this ship, it would be as man and wife and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even his mother could part them now. 

“And I love you. With all my heart.” 

He rose to his feet and she did the same before he pulled her to him for a deep kiss which she returned, open mouthed and heated. As he backed her slowly against the nearest wall, she gasped against his lips and grabbed him by his collar, holding him to her even as his tongue stroked hers eagerly. And this… this was so much more than the earnest kiss they had shared before the priest after they had said their vows. 

This kiss was an all consuming inferno; each ardent touch of her hands on his skin left a trail of searing heat and wanting behind. It was all he could do to hold himself together when her breath ghosted across his skin and she said words he hadn’t dared to imagine hearing. 

“Take me to bed, Oliver.” 

His gaze met hers and he saw the dark, serious glint in her eyes, saw the hunger in her expression and he knew she felt it too. The mounting tension, the deep yearning for each other, and the nervous but genuine excitement. Oliver wanted nothing more than to be with her in that moment. But Felicity deserved more, deserved better than for him to allow his excitement to get the best of him. 

They had the rest of their lives together; tonight, they could take things slow and glory in each simple touch of skin on skin.

He leaned down to catch her lips with his once more, this time slower and more tender as he poured out all of his love and raw devotion for her into the simple act of kissing her. He felt her body relax against his as his arms came up around her and he lifted her off the ground. In response, he felt her legs wrap around him and his heart thumped a little harder in his chest at the idea of those same legs wrapped around him in less innocent ways. Holding her against him, he carried her across the room, aware only of the drumming of his heart and the quiet sounds of their kissing as he lavished his attention on her lower lip. 

When he reached the bed, he eased them down onto it as one, pausing long enough to stare into her eyes for a heartbeat or two, his fingers delicately brushing a loose strand of hair back from her face. He could sense the rising nerves within her, the uncertainty coupled with the desperate wanting. With gentle hands, he pulled her down onto the bed next to him and for a spell he simply laid there beside her, kissing her thoroughly until he could feel the tension seeping out of her. Her hands framed his face and slid through his hair as she sought to hold him close against her and it was then that he broke away with a soft smile to stare at her intently. 

Pleasantly flushed and breathing quickly, she looked every bit as beautiful as a dream and he could still scarcely believe this was happening. One hand reached towards her face, his thumb dragging gently across her lower lip before he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“Do you trust me, Felicity?” 

His voice was a low brass rumble in the relative silence of their room and she could only blink at him once, twice, and thrice before she could respond, swallowing once before nodding. 

“You must know that I do.” 

He kissed her again at that, smiling against her lips before he allowed his mouth to trail sloppy kisses across her jaw and down her throat. He delighted in the sharp intake of breath she drew as he reached the neckline of her dress and kissed his way across it, eager for more but keen to progress things slowly, for her sake. 

His hand came up to cup her face as he kissed his way back to her mouth and he felt her fingers alight on his, holding him in place against her cheek. They shared a long look and she exhaled softly as she gave the barest of nods, a subtle tremor running through her as she did so. 

They sat up in unison and her hands went to his waist, where she began to tug at his shirttails. Once she’d untucked his shirt, she eased the fabric up and over his head with his assistance and he watched smilingly as she ran her hands across his chest, her eyes perusing him appreciatively before one hand went to the nape of his neck. She pulled him towards her as she sought his lips, her other hand splayed across his chest as she kissed him passionately. As her tongue brushed his and he responded with a full body shiver, he felt her smile against him and then begin to stir. When he reopened his eyes she was holding stock still, staring at him with a demure smile. 

Her hands landed upon his and she guided his palms to her waist, whereupon he gripped her hips and his eyes fixed upon her. Knowing full well the effect her actions would have on him, she expertly pulled the pins out of her hair, releasing a golden cascade of curls upon her shoulders with a little toss of her head. The very sight of her, so free and so at ease, strained his already frazzled self discipline.

His hands slid down her frame and slipped beneath her skirts, drawing the fabric up as his hands returned to her waist. It took all his self control not to have her then and there but instead, Oliver helped her pull the long lengths of fabric away from her body, delighting in the way her pale legs revealed themselves as the skirt fell away from her. 

As she kicked herself free and clear of her clothing, he caught her by an ankle and held it fast, his eyes gleaming mischievously as he pressed a kiss first to her heel and then slowly made his way up the length of her leg, glorying in the quiet sounds she made when he kissed along her thigh. By the time he turned to gaze upon her face again, she grabbed him by the chin and kissed him deeply, a newfound urgency in her actions even as he maintained his steady, measured pace.

Her fingers fumbled with his belt and she pulled away from their kiss with a frustrated noise as she focused on undoing the simple buckle and then the button of his pants. That accomplished, he had to stifle a laugh as she pried his pants away from his figure, very nearly growling in the process. With a few swift kicks, he aided her, then drew her down beside him again as his fingers slipped beneath her blouse and pulled the fabric ever upward. But instead of the soft planes of flesh he had expected, his eyes met with the rigid material that comprised her corset resting atop a layer of petticoats. 

Despite his every intention of going slow and being patient, even Oliver could not help the rumble of displeasure that left his lips when he met with this next, most imposing of obstacles. 

Felicity chortled softly and sat up before him, turning her back to him expectantly. 

“I wanted to dress the part of a gentleman’s wife… How are you with petticoats and corsets, Husband?” 

Narrowing his eyes at her in a mock scowl, he set about freeing her from her undergarments. His fingers moved swiftly across the laces that held her bodice together, all the while mentally damning to the innermost circle of hell the man or woman that had invented the corset. Determined as he was, however, he had her free from the damnable contraption in short order. As he pulled the rigid fabric away from her body and her petticoats too, his eyes landed on the creamy flesh he’d expected before and the sight very nearly did him in. 

He could sense her shyness as she ducked her head in the face of his attentive stare but she had no reason to fret. The tremble in his hands was genuine as his fingers sought her figure, his fingertips exploring hitherto unknown expanses of skin laid bare before him. Lowering his head, he kissed his way across her throat and along her shoulder blades, his hands holding her firmly by the waist as he did so. He wanted to touch and kiss every inch of her at once and it was all he could do to stay focused on the task at hand. 

They had the rest of their lives to explore each other. They had a lifetime to become intimately acquainted with every inch of flesh and to learn what made each other tick - and what made each other shiver with delight. Tonight was about showing her the depth of his love for her. And from that noble task, he was determined not to stray. 

His heart thundering in his ears, Oliver let his fingers hook around the band of her undergarments at her waist as his eyes met hers. 

“Are you certain?” 

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. There was still time. Time to back out and pretend that none of this had happened. Their marriage was a marriage in name only - they had no marriage license, no witnesses, save the priest and God. If she wanted, she could turn around and walk out that door and claim never to have met him and no one would be the wiser. 

But as he waited for her answer, she only smiled at him and nodded her head, a curtain of blonde locks framing his face as she leaned down over him to kiss him sweetly. She drew away only enough that she could speak, her lips hovering near his, her nose brushing his tenderly. 

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” she affirmed for him with a smile before she kissed him in a tender, unhurried manner. And before, before he had been _ eager _ and _ willing _ . But in the face of her saying those words - that she was _ certain _ about her love for him, about her decision to choose _ him? _ Oliver was nearly undone. 

When she broke the kiss off, she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead for added emphasis before she moved away from his face. Transfixed, he watched as she grabbed at the hemline of his drawers and tugged them down his waist. As she freed him from his clothes, he did likewise in return with the last of her clothing, only to be drawn up short by her hands exploring his body.

And he, in his experience, had come to expect or anticipate many things. But what he had _ not _expected or anticipated was Felicity, her fingers touching experimentally against his cock before she pressed a gentle kiss to it, so soft and so tender. 

The sheer sensation alone was enough to send him over the edge but he fought for control, his hand landing on hers and drawing her upwards, into a hot kiss that began to quickly spiral. Felicity… Felicity was not like the other women Oliver had been with. Felicity could undo him with a simple touch; he had to be mindful of himself and choose his next steps with great care if he was going to stand any chance of satisfying her in the way that he wanted.

And god, he wanted to see her undone so badly, it hurt. 

Laid bare before one another for the first time, Oliver had no notion of self consciousness, too swept up in marveling at the beauty that was his wife’s figure. Felicity was, in short, _ exquisite. _ And what’s more, she had no notion of the effect she had on him. But the simple sight of her, shy and modest and innocent, was enough to make Oliver nearly fall to pieces. It was only his desire to see her equally unmade that, in the moment, prevented him from giving in to his baser instincts. 

In turn, Felicity stared at him, her fingers tracing along his abdomen and down to his thighs before Oliver stayed her hand; if she carried on any longer, she’d have him undone before he’d seen her sated. And while he could handle many things, the idea of leaving her unsatisfied, on this night of all nights, was one thing he could not fathom. His hand captured hers, twining their fingers together as he gently pushed her back against the pillows and brought his body over her figure. They stared quietly at each other before he kissed her again, his heart rate accelerating in anticipation of what was to come.

“Felicity,” he breathed against her, doing his best not to push her despite the desperate want that drove him to the edge of madness. Before he could even give voice to his question, however, she spoke and in so doing, nearly stole the breath from his lungs. 

“Oliver… I am yours. And yours alone.” 

One hand still twined in hers, Oliver steadied her waist with his other hand, his fingertips pressing firmly against her skin to reassure her and to ease the nerves he could feel building. And never before in all his life had Oliver felt so in tune with another person, so keenly dialed in to another’s thoughts and feelings. But as he bent his head to kiss her again, he knew that never before had he met anyone like Felicity. She was so singular, there could be no comparison. His life henceforth would forever be divided into ‘before finding Felicity’ and ‘after finding Felicity’. She would be the defining moment in his life, of that he was certain. 

They came together as easily as if they had always been one. Between them they were one heart and one mind finally made whole. He felt her hands clench against him tightly as he found her initially, and he did his best to be gentle with her, moving slowly to allow her to adjust. Her breath came in great gasps as they kissed and when his mouth trailed to her throat once more, he could swear he felt the thunder of her heart when his lips touched upon her pulse point. 

Hers was not the only heart racing like mad. He was quite certain his was about to beat right out of his chest. But what a glorious way to die, with her in his arms. 

He rocked against her slowly, devouring the quiet gasp she made as he did so. Holding fast to her waist, he moved to deepen the connection between them and the surprised noise she made in response stayed him for a moment, until he could be certain she was alright. But with his eyes trained on hers, he found only love and devotion staring up at him as she raised her head to kiss him. At the same time, she rolled her hips against his and Oliver could not help but groan against her lips at this move. For her first time, Felicity was already doing a remarkable job making him see stars. 

He was lost in a sea of sensation; every touch of skin, every smell of her hair, every quiet noise was a thrill he would never tire of. The complete satisfaction that came from being joined with her, mingled with the scent of peppermint that clung to her skin and hair made for an experience so electric, Oliver was lost in it all. Her skin was soft against his and he felt as though the sheer want of her might consume him alive. 

And though he’d sworn he would go slow with her, he found his restraint fraying at the seams. They moved in time with one another in a steady, building rhythm. Her head lolled back against the pillows and her back arched up to meet him while he struggled to draw things out, intent on giving her all that he could. One of her ankles hooked around his leg, while she drew her other knee up to his waist, unintentionally bringing him deeper. Oliver drank in her sharp inhale of surprise and kissed her deeply, delighting in the eager way she returned his kiss, her hands trembling as she skimmed her fingers across his abdomen. 

A moment later, just as they were both dangerously close to spiraling over the edge, Oliver fought to slow things down. He withdrew halfway from her and took the opportunity to allow his hands to trail delicately across her body. Her chest rose and fell heavily before him and her eyes were wild and bright as she made a quiet noise of complaint as he drew away from her. 

“Please, Oliver,” she panted and he delighted in the sound of his name falling from her lips. His face lowered to hers and he let his nose brush gently against hers, a smile on his face.

“Please, what?” 

“Please…” she trailed off and he grinned at her all the more as she struggled to find the words. 

“What do you want, Felicity?” Oliver whispered softly against her ear as he kissed her earlobe, biting it gently before he pressed tender kisses all down her jaw and throat. 

“_You _ . I just…. I just want _ you.” _ She exhaled heavily and he could scarcely contain himself in the face of that admission. Her hands snaked out and held him to her as tightly as she dared, her nails digging into his skin so deeply that he would be left with tiny crescent shaped marks when all was said and done. Oliver pressed his lips to hers fiercely, all tongue and teeth as he thrust against her unexpectedly. Felicity whimpered in response and he began to pull away from her until she scrabbled against him in an attempt to hold him near to her.

“No,” she gasped against his lips, clutching him against her. “More. Please.” She gasped softly, hardly able to formulate a coherent thought in the face of the onslaught of emotions and sensations she was experiencing. 

And Oliver could do nothing in the face of her pleading, save to acquiesce. 

He moved against her a little more roughly, drinking in the soft sounds she made as he did so. And though he sought to be nothing short of giving and gentlemanly with her, he could not help but begin to give in to his baser instincts. 

His hips rocked into hers and he delighted in the quiet noise she made in response. As it turned out, Felicity was extremely responsive, a fact which Oliver was already coming to love. And though his mind said to go slow, his body said to speed up. So instead of listening to himself, Oliver settled for taking his cues from Felicity.

She trembled beneath him, eager and at the same time, so uncertain. As he moved against her, he was dimly aware of her legs coming up to wrap around his waist and he felt a thrill at the sensation of her leg brushing against his before she wrapped herself around him, tender and true. 

His mouth trailed clumsy kisses across her neck and then down to her chest. As he kissed his way across her body, his hands skimmed softly across her breasts and it was all he could do to focus. Oliver wanted nothing more than to get lost in her body, in the simple contact of her skin against his. 

For all his desire to give her the moon and the stars though, Oliver was only a man of flesh and blood. And he was a mortal man so utterly smitten with his new bride that it had taken every ounce of restraint and strength in him not to finish the very moment that they had started. But as their bodies seemed to fall into a perfect sync with one another, he could sense that time was short. His hands steadied her to him as he pulled away from her before quickly rocking into her once, then twice, and finally thrice more, each time with building passion that bordered on frenzy. The sight of her beneath him, her lips parted and eyes bright with ecstasy, was enough to bring him to the edge of sanity. 

She cried out into the night, burying her face against his shoulder as her body trembled against his. Her toes curled and she bit his shoulder blade to stifle a loud moan even as she held him against her just before he collapsed atop her, boneless and utterly spent. 

She held him to her and even as he relaxed against her, Oliver knew that he was hopelessly and irreversibly lost. His entire world, everything that he loved and treasured, he was holding in his arms. Everything had somehow shifted the moment he had met her, as if his soul and hers were perfectly fitted puzzle pieces that had found each other at last. Life as he knew it now consisted only of doing whatever it took to protect Felicity, to love Felicity, and to make Felicity happy. 

Everything else was distantly secondary. 

As he pressed a kiss to the sharp line of her clavicle, he tasted the salt of her sweat upon his tongue and he could not help but smile at the knowledge of what they had just done to work up that sweat. God he loved her. He could die a happy man if, every day between this day and his last, he was able to hold her in his arms and make love to her just as he had tonight. 

Her fingers mussed his hair and her nails pleasantly skimmed against his scalp as he laid his head upon her figure, delighting in the soft sensation of her touch. As his breathing slowed (and his heart rate with it), he could not refrain from lifting his head so his eyes could seek out hers. He was certain he was wearing a self satisfied grin but it couldn’t be helped. He’d just made love to his wife - the single most exquisite creature he’d ever known. Satisfied didn’t even begin to describe the all consuming contentment he felt. 

Beneath him, Felicity stirred and met his eye, looking pleasantly tired but also gratified as she smiled diffidently up at him. One hand touched the side of his face gently, her eyes trained on him.

“I love you,” she whispered and Oliver knew in that moment that never, in all his days, would he love anyone the way he loved her. She was his northern star, his anchor, his guiding light. 

“And I love you. All of you. Exactly as you are,” Oliver murmured, nuzzling the side of her face before he placed a tender kiss just beneath her ear and then another upon her lips. He moved so that he lay beside her and she curled against him. As simply as that, they were face to face, her head nestled against his chest, her legs twined through his. Her hand sought out one of his and their fingers interlocked as she sighed happily against him.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed; his pocket watch lay in the pocket of his jacket, forgotten along with the rest of his clothes upon the floor. He knew it had to be late though and the day’s events were finally catching up to him. Had it really been only a few hours ago that they had been married in secret? And then all that strangeness with the iceberg and his argument with his mother. It felt like a lifetime ago. 

Felicity’s breathing had begun to level out and he could tell she was on the verge of sleep or perhaps in the beginning stages of it. Her lids were shuttered, her chest rising and falling in an even, steady rhythm. Oliver clutched her a little more tightly against him and relaxed into her, feeling utterly at peace, joyous in the knowledge that this was his new reality. Making love to his wife and cradling her against him until they slept. 

Was there anything sweeter in life? If there was, he’d yet to find it. 

Oliver had just begun to drift off to sleep when a sudden clamor and crashing had him and Felicity both sitting bolt upright, the peaceful sentiment of moments before utterly shattered. Oliver staggered to his feet, blinking in the dark until he could turn on a light. When he did so, however, the scene before him did not make immediate sense. 

The glass pitcher and cups that had been resting on the table were on the floor in shards and as Oliver came to his senses, the reason why became apparent. 

The ship was badly slanted and it was this angle that had sent the glassware careening off the table. Even as he struggled to comprehend it though, Oliver heard screams from the hall. He and Felicity looked at each other in fright and he held a hand before him in silent request for her not to move. He hurried to the door, mindless of the fact that he was still unclothed. Peeking his head outside, however, Oliver saw people fleeing to his left. A look to his right revealed why.

At the staircase’s base, water was rushing up.

“Felicity! Get dressed!” Oliver shouted, throwing the door closed as he raced back into the room for her. Stumbling out of bed she began to pull on her clothes, wide eyed and panic stricken as she looked to him.

“Oliver what is it?!” 

“The crewmen were wrong. We’re taking on water,” he explained as he frantically pulled on his shirt and pants. Flinging himself to the floor before the bed, he felt around blindly until, with a satisfied grunt, he withdrew a lifejacket from beneath the bed. Rising hurriedly, he went to Felicity, who was just finishing dressing herself. 

“Put this on and don’t take it off.” Oliver directed, pulling the lifejacket of canvas and cork over her head, his fingers fumbling as he tried to tie the strings for her. In truth, he did not believe the ship itself was in trouble - but the close proximity of the water meant that their secret little love nest in this room definitely was. 

“What about you?!” 

“I’ll be fine,” Oliver dismissed, finishing his work and grabbing her hand in his, he began to lead her to the door. By the time they entered the hallway, still more water had poured in and he heard Felicity gasp in terror as she took in the sight. 

“Which way, Felicity?!” Oliver asked her, aware that she knew far better than he how to navigate the ship. Wide eyed as she looked at him, Felicity shook her head and started forward, her hand tightening on his. 

“This way.” 

They sprinted down the halls, joining a flood of fellow passengers desperately seeking to escape the rising water. As they went, Oliver became aware of the worsening slant of the ship and he did his best to project calm stoicism to Felicity though there was little point. All around them there were screams and terror seemed to rule the deepening night. As they followed the crush of people though, Felicity suddenly turned, leading Oliver down a narrow hall and through a maze of passages until they reached an opening that was barred by a closed gate. Felicity threw herself at it bodily before Oliver could stop her.

“Hello there?! This is the Stewardess, I have a First Class Passenger in need of passage!” She shouted urgently and before Oliver could ask Felicity what she was doing, the crewman manning the gate appeared into view. 

“Felicity Smoak?” 

“Carter Bowen! Thank heavens,” Felicity sighed, clearly relieved to have encountered a steward she knew. “I need to get this passenger to First Class for the evacuation,” Felicity explained breathlessly and the man in question surveyed the pair with interest, his eyes lingering less than innocently on Felicity for a moment before tracing across to Oliver.

“Oliver Queen?”

Oliver felt himself tense and he lifted his chin as he stared the male steward down.

“Yes. Do I know you?” 

“No. But I do know your mother,” Bowen remarked, smirking as he turned his focus back to Felicity. “He can come up, but you’ll have to stay below. You know his Mum had you banned from First Class. She said she’d tip handsomely for anyone who refused to admit you. Looks like it’s my lucky day.” 

With that, he began to turn around and Felicity flung out a hand at him, drawing him up short.

“Carter! Wait, please! That’s fine, just let him pass, please.” 

“Felicity,” Oliver growled, his eyes flashing as he looked from his wife to Crewman Bowen and back again, “I’m not leaving you.” 

“Yes. You are,” she shot back, her voice a growl equally as intense as his as she squared her shoulders and threw out her jaw a touch. “Oliver listen to me. Please. Just go, get on a lifeboat. I’ll join you as soon as they start evacuating crew.” 

“I am not getting off this ship without you.” 

“Yes. You are. Because you are a passenger on this ship and you are my husband and I want you to be with the other passengers. On a lifeboat. Safe and away from this madness.” 

“I don’t want to be with the other passengers. I want to be with you. On the ship. _ Unsafe. _” 

She bristled and shook her head, though he could see in her eyes it pained her to deny him; he might only have known her a short while but he could read her like a book - and she, him. 

“No. Please, Oliver. I will never ask anything of you again if you just get on a lifeboat now. I promise, I will find you as soon as all of this is over. Just go. Get on a boat. I won’t be able to think or to breathe or to do anything useful to help unless I know that you’re safe. And I need to help - it’s my job to help.” 

“You should be the one getting on a lifeboat. Not me!” Oliver argued and she shook her head even more vehemently. 

“That’s not how it works. Women and children _ passengers _ first, then men. Crew last.” 

“To hell with the rules.” 

“I think we’ve said to hell with the rules enough tonight by getting married,” she teased him softly, trying to bring the tension of the conversation down, “so just please, listen to me and listen to the rules this once. Go get on a boat. And as soon as this is over with, I promise, we won’t leave each other’s arms for at least a solid month,” she joked, beaming at him. Grinning at her wolfishly, the memory of how he’d held her in his arms just a short while ago all too fresh, he shook his head, leaning his head down so that his nose nuzzled hers tenderly. 

“Make it a year.” 

“Deal,” she exhaled against him before she pushed onto the tips of her toes and let her lips meet his in a surprisingly fierce goodbye kiss. “Now go.” 

She clutched Oliver’s hand in hers as Bowen unlocked the gate and she kept holding onto him until the final moment, when his fingers slipped between hers as he stepped through the open doorway. As the gate closed and locked behind him, Oliver spun to look at Felicity through the metal bars now separating them, pain brimming in his eyes.

“Promise me you’ll be safe. This is all probably an overreaction - the ship can survive flooding in four compartments, I heard it from the architect himself. But even still, promise me you’ll be careful?” 

“I promise, I’ll be the first of the crew in line for lifeboats. Go find your mother and your sister and your father. And _ get on a lifeboat. _” 

Oliver reached through the bars to grab her and pulled her to him for a kiss. When they staggered apart, he flashed her a cocky smile.

“Go on then, Mrs. Queen. I’ll see you shortly.” 

“Indeed you will, husband.” Felicity grinned back, tamping down her own fear to put on a show of bravery. She departed with hurried steps, waiting until she was out of his sight before she let the wall of fear wash over her.

The lifeboats could only hold half the total number of people aboard the ship - there would not be seats enough for all the passengers, let alone the crew. Their only chance at survival hinged on the hope of another ship coming to their rescue, that the souls aboard the Titanic could be ferried to it before the ship sank. 

In saying goodbye to Oliver just now, she had secured his best chance at survival. The first class passengers would be loaded first. She would not condemn her husband to die just because she herself was of a lower class than he. 

She spilled back into one of the main thoroughfares with the second class passengers and crew fighting their way up to the second class deck. Felicity did her best to keep her footing and to direct the other terrified souls surging towards the decks..But all the while, terror was singing through her veins, along with the desperate, selfish wish that her husband was at her side to hold her hand and stand alongside her through this dark hour. 

\-----

Oliver watched Felicity disappear and already, he acutely felt her absence and he ached to weave his fingers through hers. But even with the terrible fright of the water at the base of the grand staircase, Oliver was still not convinced of the ship’s peril. She had taken on water, to be sure, but Oliver recalled the ship’s architect speaking of how the Titanic could stay afloat even with flooded compartments. He recalled mention of pumps that were capable of pumping water out of a compromised hold. The details of how many and how fast escaped his memory - Oliver remembered just enough not to be frightened, despite the terror raging in the floors beneath his feet as he moved steadily up to the first class deck in search of his family. 

Still, Felicity had wanted him on a lifeboat and though he hadn’t wanted to leave her, the confidence she had projected about getting on board one of the crew boats had swayed him. Oliver was only too keenly aware of how important this job was to Felicity. And while he intended to support them both so that she need not work, Oliver had not wanted to throw his weight around and get her on board a lifeboat if such a move would come back to cause problems for her down the line. 

Already he’d gotten her kicked out of her plush First Class Stewardess role. He did not need to further drag her reputation through the mud. 

Arriving on the deck, Oliver took in the scene before him with surprise. Passengers crowded against the railing, where the ship’s crew were working frantically to lower lifeboats. Catching sight of a familiar face however, Oliver forgot to watch the crew.

“Thea!” 

His sister looked to have been hastily dressed and she was wearing a lifejacket atop her nightgown, with a fur coat slung over the top. When she caught sight of him, her eyes lit up and she threw herself at him in relief.

“Ollie! I was so worried about you!” 

He embraced her happily, glancing around until he caught sight of their parents not far off. 

“You haven’t anything to fret, Speedy,” he reassured her quietly and she frowned at him, shaking her head. 

“Oliver, the ship is sinking.” 

“The ship is unsinkable! She’s taken on water, but Mister Andrews himself said she could stay afloat even if she took on water.” Oliver dismissed his sister’s concerns but Thea shook her head, her eyes dark.

“No Ollie, we saw Mister Andrews. He said the cargo hold, the squash court, the mail room, even some of the boiler rooms are underwater! The Titanic can’t stand that much. He said we’d best get on a boat as quick as we could and that hopefully another ship would be by soon to aid us.” 

Oliver felt his blood go cold as the reality of the ship’s plight struck him and he suddenly realized that he had left Felicity alone aboard a ship that was not merely having some trouble but genuinely _ sinking. _

“Oliver! Oh thank heavens!” Moira had caught sight of him and together with Robert, the pair pushed through the crowd towards him and his sister. He was engulfed in a hug from his mother, who put a hand to either side of his face in relief.

“Oh I thought I’d never see you again, thank goodness you made it up here,” his mother gasped, clutching him to her with a vice like grip. 

“They’re putting the women and children aboard first but if there aren’t any women or children to be had, Mister Murdoch is letting the men on too,” Oliver’s father explained, clapping him on the shoulder firmly. “Just have to get the ladies aboard and wait it out, I’m afraid.” 

“Absolutely not!” Moira hissed, glaring at her husband venomously. “We will talk to Mister Murdoch. He is a civilized man I am sure he will see the reason of letting a man board with his wife, and a brother board with his sister,” she explained, glancing at Oliver nervously. But at the word ‘wife’ Oliver had gone stock still. 

“I’m not getting on board,” he shook his head and began to pry his mother’s hands off of him. Moira yelped and tried to clasp her son all the tighter, refusing to release him.

“No no no, Oliver you have to! Do you hear me? You have to get on board the boat! I know you are mad at me, you may even hate me right now. That’s fine. I deserve it, alright? I’m sorry. Just please, _ get on the boat!” _His mother was verging on hysterical as she gripped his arms, her nails digging into him roughly. 

“I can’t,” Oliver shook his head, dazed by the seriousness of their plight. “I have to go back. I have to get Felicity.” 

“WAIT!” Moira cried out, clinging to her son even as he pulled away from her. “We can send a steward to find her! Please, Oliver. She can come with us, you can marry her, we’ll pay for the ceremony, _ I don’t care! _Just please… Stay here. Get on the boat with us. We will find her. Just… please. Don’t leave your family.” Moira begged of him but Oliver could only shake his head sadly. He knew, deep in his heart, that his mother was being genuine - perhaps for the first time in her life, even. But he could no more board the life raft than he could have flown off into the night sky. 

Leaving in any form or fashion, without Felicity, was simply unthinkable. 

“Felicity is down below. They wouldn’t allow her into First Class,” Oliver explained, and the way his mother ducked her head in shame did not escape his notice. “I have to go find her. I won’t leave without her. She is my family now.” 

“Oliver,” Thea began to protest, only for him to shake his head.

“Thea… I cannot leave her. She is my wife. She is my heart and she is my soul. I could no more leave her than I could live without the heart in my chest.” 

At this, Thea fell silent and even Moira was stunned into quiet. 

“Oliver please, stay here. We can have a crewman go down below to find her,” his father attempted to stop him and Oliver’s rage overflowed.

“If Mother had not had her turned out of First Class she would be here beside me, even now!” Oliver roared, chest heaving. “I will _ not _entrust my wife’s safety to another man. I am her husband. It is my duty to protect her. And I will not leave this ship while she remains on it.” Oliver growled with finality, wrenching away from his mother. He turned to his sister and embraced her tightly before he pushed through the crowd of passengers (mostly men, the women having been stowed aboard boats already), towing Thea along behind him. When he reached the forefront, Oliver flagged down Murdoch.

“Mister Murdoch! Women and children, correct?” Oliver confirmed and the First Officer in question turned to face him, his eyes wide.

“Aye!” 

“Here you are then,” Oliver shouted, pulling Thea forward. Murdoch blinked at the brunette for but a moment and then he hurried to help her aboard the next lifeboat which was only a quarter full. Taking a deep breath, Oliver bit back his rage and turned behind him. “You too, Mother.” 

Moira appeared taken aback by his concern and though he was still seeing red, Oliver would not take his anger at his mother out on her by denying her a chance at survival. Grabbing her by the hand, Oliver helped her into the lifeboat and then turned away from it, even as Murdoch looked around.

“If there are no more women and children, I can take some of you gents!” Murdoch shouted and Oliver turned to look at the First Officer with a shake of his head.

“I have to get my wife first. My father can take my seat.” 

Clapping his father on the shoulder as he passed by, Oliver did not bother to stay and listen to his family’s protests as he hurried back into the swarming fray of bodies on the ship’s deck. His family was safe - with the sole exception of the woman he had just sworn to protect for as long as they both should live. 

Oliver was going to find Felicity. He would not leave this ship without her. 

The ship teemed with fearful passengers shoving their way this way and that as they all tried to make for the lifeboats. And just looking at the sea of bodies around them, Oliver began to fear for the odds stacked against him finding Felicity in such a frantic mass of people. And even if he did find her, what hope could they possibly have of getting to a lifeboat in time? 

Whatever the odds, he would gamble on them; she was worth most any risk. And if he had learned anything from watching her play Blackjack, sometimes the cards _ could _seem stacked against a person, but that same person could still come out on top. And that was precisely what Oliver intended to do tonight. 

He had made his way to the Second Class deck after much pushing and shoving. It was hardly his finest hour in terms of gentlemanly behavior, but he cared little; he would have done most anything to find her. Pushing and shoving paled in comparison to the far darker things he would have done to save her.

As he searched the deck, he heard a familiar voice ring through the turmoil and he turned to find a familiar blonde head of hair ducked down low as she tied a life jacket on a terrified looking young boy as the young woman beside him fussed with an even younger looking young boy.

“There now, see? Just like that, you’re ready for the boats. Take heart, Master Marshall! We will get you on board a lifeboat and then you’ll start a grand adventure at sea. That’s exciting, isn’t it?” Felicity comforted the child as she rose again, the boy still clutching her hand. Oliver found himself forcing his way through the crowd to her and as he drew near, he saw the moment her eyes landed on his and her eyes flew open with surprise.

“Oliver!”

“Felicity!” 

He embraced her tenderly, mindful of the child clinging to her side but too relieved at having found her to be anything less than demonstrative. His fear of never finding her abated, Oliver held fast to her.

“We need to get you to the boats. The starboard side was letting men on with the women and children if there were no other women and children around when the boat was launched. We’ll get you all a seat and who knows? There just might be room for me to join you,” he explained as he held fast to her hand while he began to push through the crowd, determined to see Felicity safely stowed aboard a boat. 

“Oliver, what are you doing here?! You were supposed to get on a lifeboat!” Felicity hissed as they edged nearer to the front of the line, Oliver jostling them through the crowd. 

“I couldn’t leave you. The ship’s truly in trouble, Felicity. I could not leave a sinking ship knowing you were still aboard it.” 

“Oliver,” Felicity growled loudly as she tugged him by his collar, quieting as he leaned in close to her to listen, “there’s more people aboard the ship than there are seats on the lifeboats. A great many people are going to die unless a ship comes to our rescue.” 

At this, Oliver fell still, looking around them at the teeming mass of people and then at the young boy holding Felicity’s hand, and the young woman and child trailing behind her. Oliver was nearly overwhelmed by the severity of the situation but his resolve remained steadfast.

He would get Felicity to a lifeboat. That was all that mattered. 

They found their way to the port side of the ship, where the Second Officer - Lightoller, Oliver recalled dimly - was directing the evacuation. But as they drew near to the front, Oliver heard Lightoller barking at the crowd gathered around the only two remaining lifeboats.

“YOU HEARD ME! WOMEN AND CHILDREN ONLY!” He bellowed, glaring angrily at the crowd. “NO MENFOLK.” 

Oliver felt Felicity stop in her tracks at this and his arm jerked painfully as he held onto her. He spun to look at her but she was already shaking her head in adamant refusal.

“No Oliver. No. Absolutely not.” 

“Felicity, you must.” 

“I must leave you behind? When you refused to leave me behind? I won’t. No. Not under any circumstances.” She huffed, brushing past him to present the young boy to Lightoller.

“OFFICER LIGHTOLLER!” She shouted, hoisting the boy over her head. “I’ve two young boys and a young woman in need of passage!” 

In response, Lightoller motioned to his men, who cleared a path and helped Felicity guide the boy - Marshall - and his brother and the young woman forward. When they were safely aboard, Lightoller motioned to Felicity.

“You too, ma’am!” 

“No! I won’t board unless my husband can accompany me.” 

“Women and children only, ma’am.” 

“Then I shall not go.” Felicity stated defiantly, even as Oliver tried to fight her on the issue. As the crowd swallowed them up again though, Felicity grabbed him by the ear. 

“You said they were allowing men on the starboard side? We should try there.” She directed and Oliver stared hard at her.

“And if they allow me on the lifeboat, you will go?” 

“I will.” Oliver watched her, looking for signs that she was lying, but if she was, none of her tells were there and so he heaved a sigh. 

“Very well.” He nodded, grabbing her with his left hand and pushing his way through the crowd with his right. 

Time seemed to stand still as they fought to get to the other side of the ship. But as they went, Oliver could feel the angle of the ship growing more severe, and the Titanic seemed to groan as she strained beneath the tremendous pressure placed on her. Even as the couple maneuvered across the decks, there was a sudden crack loud as thunder and a sudden tremor ran through the deck. Oliver’s eyes cast about in fright for the source of the commotion in time to see one of the ship’s funnels begin to pitch towards the sea as its base buckled. 

Screams rose up around them and Oliver saw the air frost the horrified exhale Felicity loosed as she caught sight of the falling funnel. But as he saw the trajectory of the falling structure, Oliver knew they were in the clear. And what’s more? Everyone around them had stopped to watch the funnel fall. 

Seizing the opportunity, Oliver tugged on Felicity’s arm and pulled her through the throngs of horrified passengers in his desperate flight to the ship’s starboard side. He prayed Murdoch was still leading the evacuation; he had seemed a sensible man. Oliver was certain his offer of loading male passengers when all women and children were accounted for would stand. But even if it didn’t, he would see Felicity safe. That was all that mattered. 

After what felt like a lifetime, the railing of the starboard side came into sight as the crewmen struggled to send away a heavily laden lifeboat that was listing badly. But as Oliver’s eyes swept to and fro, he realized something far more distressing than the precarious status of the lifeboat before them. And as the dire realization dawned upon him, he felt Felicity stiffen as she realized it as well. 

“Oliver… Oliver there aren’t anymore boats,” she choked out in a low whisper and he felt his heart crumble beneath the panic and despair in her voice. His eyes swung frantically this way and that but even as he desperately searched the port side, he knew that what she had said was true. They’d been to both sides of the ship; the last boat on this side had just been lowered away. 

“There’s no boats left!” Someone screamed and Oliver could feel the panic in the crowd rising.

“Try the port side!” Another voice cried out.

“They’re out too! There’s nothing left!” 

Screams and terror reigned and Oliver fought to quell the rising horror in his gut. Nothing was left. There was no rescue ship on the horizon, no answer to the distressed ship’s flares fired off into the night. They were trapped on the Titanic. The unsinkable ship that was most assuredly, sinking fast. 

There had to be a way. There had to be _ something _he could do. He refused to accept that on the very night he had taken Felicity as his wife, the same night he had promised her ‘forever’ and made love to her, he would also lose her. Surely the universe could not be so cruel as all that. But even as Oliver searched for a panic stricken solution, a metallic screech rent the night air in two. 

Another funnel, this one nearest to the sinking bow, was going, the cables holding it in place snapping as it crashed down into the water and ripped apart from the vessel. Fresh screams rose up around them as it went and Oliver held fast to Felicity as he began to run. 

If there were no boats here, they had no reason to dally; the water was frightfully close and coming faster with every passing moment. And now, with the funnels going? Nowhere was free from danger. And he needed her to be protected from the grisly end he knew awaited the Titanic and most of those who remained aboard her now. Let come what may for him; Felicity needed to survive and Oliver had to see her to safety. It was this mission which beat a staccato refrain in his heart and in his mind. 

“Stay with me, Felicity. Hold onto me and stay with me!” 

The words were shouted over his shoulder as they raced hand in hand for the stern end of the ship. But even as Oliver sought to put distance between them and the encroaching waters of the North Atlantic, the Titanic seemed to heave and the angle of the deck beneath their feet grew still more dire. A horrific screeching sound sent terror screaming through Oliver’s veins and the ship pitched suddenly, seemingly on the verge of shattering. For a moment, it seemed as though they would die in an instant. Oliver flailed out with one hand for the ship’s railing. When he felt his fingers alight on it, he gripped it tightly before he hauled Felicity against the railing alongside him. 

The rear half of the ship moved swiftly upward, the angle becoming extreme enough that Oliver feared one or both of them might pitch sideways and fall to the waiting sea. But still, he moved them ever forward, inching along the rail in the direction of the stern. They needed to get as far away from the middle of the ship as possible, for even now the water was mercilessly swallowing up the bow of the ocean liner.

They were just a quarter of the ship’s length away from the stern when the splintering sound reached his ears. And Oliver held onto the railing with all his might, unable to help the way his body shook with fear. The ship moved violently underfoot and tremors ran through the deck before a prolonged _ crack _louder than a hundred gunshots echoed through the night. As Oliver watched, the wooden planks of the deck began to splinter and the bowels of the ship seemed to rock with a series of explosions. Before Oliver could even wonder what fresh hell the explosions might herald, the Titanic seemed to cleave in two before his eyes. Even as he watched, the bow disappeared beneath the frothing, foaming surface of the otherwise dark sea. For a moment the ship’s stern seemed suspended and then it fell back to the water so roughly that they both lost their grip on the rail and together, they careened through space. 

They landed roughly against a stretch of railing and Oliver desperately grabbed for it as an anchor, staying their fall. Once more horizontal, the ship creaked and squealed and Oliver felt his racing heart go suddenly still. 

This was it. All his efforts to save her had amounted to nothing. And now she was about to die - and him alongside her. But it was the loss of _ her _life that he felt most acutely in those seconds. 

He could feel her breathing heavily from her vantage, curled up beside him and clinging to him out of a desperation born not just of circumstance, but of deep love. His arm curved around her, drawing her closer to him for what he knew would be their final moments. 

“Oliver,”she whispered against his chest. But even muffled, the terror dripped off every word and he ached with the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to ease the coming horror. “I’m scared.”

“Felicity, just keep holding onto me,” he instructed her, snugging her a little more tightly against him. "Okay? Hold onto me and don't let go. No matter what."

Her eyes were wide and she glanced around them. As if on cue, the ship began to keel to the port side, prompting screams to sound from all around them as hysterical passengers reacted to the ship's ever worsening plight. Felicity gaped in horror as some of them jumped over the ship’s railing and into the water below while still others clung desperately to whatever they could get their hands on. 

But even as her heart began to race with the unconscionable dread of it all, Oliver's hands bracketed her face, each palm blocking her view to everything except for his face. 

"Don't look at them," he instructed her breathlessly. "Just stay here with me. Whatever happens, just keep your eyes on mine."

She swallowed and then nodded with a heavy, slow exhale. She obeyed him unswervingly; her hands held onto him with a vice like grip while her eyes never wavered from his. Even when a violent snapping sound whipped through the air and another of the ship’s funnels broke free from its bearings and plummeted into the water below, Felicity never took her eyes off of him and her hold on him never faltered.

Still, Oliver could sense her mounting distress. And in truth, he was beside himself with panic. It was only her utter devotion to him that kept him going, even in the face of the inevitable truth. 

The ship was sinking. No one was coming to their rescue. The odds were, they were going to die on this very ship, in these cold and unforgiving waters, in just a matter of moments. But if they were going to die, he was going to make damn sure that for their final seconds on this earth, they _ lived _. 

“Three,” he said, unbidden. He watched in silent joy as Felicity frowned at him uncomprehendingly. 

“What?” 

“Children. We would have had three children, I think. After we were married again. In the cathedral in New York, of course,” he explained with a smile that wasn’t forced but instead, was honest as could be. The very idea of her bearing his children? It bolstered him to be the courageous man she needed him to be right now and brought him so much peace. 

“Yeah?” Her eyes glossed over with tears and her lips tilted into a quavering smile.

“Oh yeah,” he nodded with certainty. “It would have been a spring wedding. We would have had it all - the white dress for you, tux for me, the cake, the guests, all of it. We would have lived in a beautiful house just outside the city. With a little bit of land for the children to run around on. We’d have a hound or two. Maybe a few horses.”

“What else? Tell me more about our lives, Oliver. Tell me all of it,” she pleaded, hunger in her voice and in her expression. And he understood; sitting here in the jaws of death, he too yearned for the life he was envisioning for them. 

“We would be deliriously happy. I’d kiss you awake every morning and kiss you every evening before sleep.” 

“Show me,” she begged him breathlessly and he smiled at her softly before he complied, his lips slanting eagerly over hers. He tried to communicate all of the love and desire and appreciation he had for her into that one kiss. If they were going to die, he was going to be damn certain she died knowing she had been completely and irrevocably loved by him. 

When they broke apart, her tears had finally overflowed and left wet trails across her cheeks but she stayed fixated on him, her eyes never leaving him. She was still staring at him unflinchingly when the boat seemed to groan and heave suddenly before it began to pitch once more and this time, he knew there would be no reprieve.

The ship lifted out of the water as if drawn upward by an invisible hand. Without power, the ship was plunged into darkness save for what the stars chose to illuminate on this moonless night. The stern continued to rise and Oliver felt Felicity’s arms wrap around him more tightly still. In response, his hands clenched the railing with a vice-like grip and not a moment too soon. The ship began to plunge down into the churning water below and it pitched forward with such momentum that in a second, Felicity had been flung from the railing and begun to fall. It was only her blind flailing that had saved her as she caught onto Oliver instead of falling to her death. And just like that, Oliver was hanging from the railing by his hands, dangling precariously with Felicity clinging to him for dear life. 

“Felicity just hold on!” He called out to her in the dark and her answering whimper gutted him.

“Oliver I’m slipping!” 

His eyes swung to hers in time to see her eyes flash with fear just as her grip seemed to falter. It happened in an instant; one moment, she had a firm grasp on him and they were both dangling together. The next, she was slipping away from him, her fingers grasping for purchase as she began to slide down his body. Just as she was about to fall, he released his grip on the railing with one hand and grabbed for whatever part of her he could reach. His fingers encircled her wrist and held fast to it, even as panic clawed through him. His muscles screamed in protest as his one hand bore the entirety of his weight as well as hers.

He couldn’t hold them like this for long; already he could feel his body begin to quake but he was determined not to let her go. He had failed her on so many accounts tonight; he could not also fail her in this moment.

They hung there for one long, drawn out moment; Oliver holding the railing in one hand, Felicity in the other. Felicity dangled in the air, anchored to life only by Oliver’s tight hold on her. One slip of his fingers and she would plunge to her end, alone.

“Oliver, you have to let me go,” her voice was little more than a husky, emotionally laden shout and brooked no argument but argue it, he would. 

“No, absolutely not!”

“You have to! You have to go. One of us has to survive this! And it’s going to be you.” She pleaded with him tearfully, going so far as the twist her hand where it was clenched in his. He resisted aggressively, tightening his hold on her instead and staunchly refusing to do as she asked. 

“I’m not letting go of you!” 

“Please, Oliver! I can’t swim. Just let me go. I’m begging you! Just… save yourself!” As if swimming could save either of them at this point. Oliver knew the water was far too cold, and with help nowhere on the horizon, survival was a dream and death, a foregone conclusion.

Instead, with a pained roar, he pulled her up to the railing, panting with the effort even as he strained and eventually drew her into his arms with finality.

“Sorry Felicity, I know you hate it when I don’t listen to you,” he shot back through labored breaths, his whole body burning with the exertion. When he looked down to her face, there was none of the anger he’d expected though. Her eyes glowed with tender affection and sorrow as she clung to him with one hand and the rail with the other, even as the ship descended faster towards the water. When it was bubbling practically at their feet, she leaned into him, her hand gripping his so tightly it would have hurt, had he still been able to feel his hands. He was so cold, he’d lost sensation in them some time ago.

“I love you. I love you so much Oliver,” she gasped as she stared at him lovingly. And he longed to wipe the tears from her eyes but he couldn’t. All he could do was squeeze the hand twined through his with greater fervor, trying to communicate the depth of his love for her through that one simple act. 

“I love you, Felicity.” 

Clinging to each other until the very end, her eyes remained trained on his as the water surged around them, submerging them with a swiftness that was almost merciful. But even as the ocean claimed them, they held fast to one another and never once did their hands part, even as they were dragged down to the bottom of the sea in the ship’s wake. Before they succumbed to the water’s forceful embrace, they knew only three things: the cold of the ocean, the darkness of the world below, and the fierce, unfaltering love of the one holding them close.

\-----

In the early morning hours of April 15, 1912, the RMS Titanic sank within the unforgiving, frigid waters of the North Atlantic. In total, an estimated 1,517 souls were officially documented as having been lost in those somber hours. In truth, the death toll was one higher than the estimate. Had they lived, Oliver and Felicity Queen would have become parents at the beginning of the following year, for their tenderly consummated marriage had been successful in more ways than one. But once more, the two soulmates had failed to mutually fulfill each other's last wishes. For while Felicity had done as Oliver bid and had never taken her eyes off of him - even as the icy waters took her - Oliver had failed to fulfill Felicity’s request to get to a lifeboat and see himself to safety, as well as her later request to let her go, that he might live. And so the star crossed lovers were doomed again. This time, however, they did not have long to wait before their next attempt. 

Oliver’s soul returned to the earth on May 16, 1914, a scant two years after the end of his previous life. And as always, Felicity returned four years after him on July 24, 1918. Once more, they would have to fight for each other. And once more, they would be tested. The world they had been born into was an unstable one and it would be on the precipice of war very, very soon. And when that happened, their souls would be present to witness it.


	4. Chapter 4

As Felicity and her cohort of fresh faced Naval Nurses were driven across the island of Oahu, it was all that she could do not to pinch herself. Somehow, fresh out of nursing school and newly admitted to the Navy Nurse Corps, she had landed a posting in Hawai’i, of all places. The island was considered a desirable post for any Navy personnel - man or woman, officer or nurse. So how on Earth she had landed it when she’d barely passed her nursing courses was _ beyond _Felicity. 

The book learning portion of her schooling? That part she’d done brilliantly at. Passed with flying colors, obtaining perfect scores on a couple occasions. But the practical portion? That… she had been less adept at. Needles still freaked her out, though she’d mostly managed to overcome her fear of pointy things (..._ mostly _) enough to do the job. The real challenge - and the thing that had nearly prevented her from becoming a nurse in the end - had not been anything to do with the medical side of the job.

It had been the mandatory instruction in cookery that had almost waylaid her life plans. It had been deemed an essential skill for nurses to have, as they would ‘often’ be preparing their patients’ food themselves if they practiced in private homes (which Felicity most certainly did not intend to do). 

Needless to say, little of the food she’d prepared had been deemed edible and she’d only narrowly managed to squeak past the cookery practical and even then, her omelettes had been rubbery at best. 

And somehow, those rubbery (and occasionally burnt) omelettes had gotten her here. To the premiere posting for her dream job, in a tropical paradise. Pinching herself seemed like an appropriate course of action; how was she _ not _dreaming all of this? It was so perfect! She was quite certain that it was only because of her determination to become a Navy Nurse that she had been passed - her instructor knew that there was no chance of Felicity working in a private home and accidentally killing her patient with some under (or over) cooked monstrosity.

So now she was here. Officially able to don the two little letters she had worked so hard to earn - R.N. 

The island was lush with vermillion vegetation and golden beaches. The water seemed an insanely beautiful shade of blue and even the sun seemed brighter. And everyone they had encountered thus far had been exceedingly kind and welcoming. 

Already, she felt herself settling in and not wanting to leave. But then again, she hadn’t even worked her first day yet; perhaps she ought to give herself time to settle in before she started deciding to put down roots in the sandy shores of Oahu. 

The new nurses were toured through the Naval Hospital; it was a polished and clean 250-bed building, which served the thousands of Navy officers anchored just across the way in the harbor itself. 

Pearl Harbor, it was called. And Felicity thought it was a rather beautiful name, albeit an odd moniker for a place that seemed (at least at first blush) to house more warships than it did pearls. 

After touring the facility and the grounds surrounding it, Felicity and her fellow nurses were shown to their accommodations and dismissed. With the evening (and a weekend) before them, conversation between the girls quickly turned to how best to celebrate their new adventures in paradise. 

The majority ruled in favor of going out to the local watering hole, where there were apparently ‘anchor clankers and flyboys aplenty’ as one of the veteran nurses had put it. This had met with raucous approval from many of the women, though Felicity hadn’t been among them. 

Sure, finding a fella would be nice, she supposed. But by and large, the men here at Pearl Harbor were in some branch of the service. And servicemen had a knack for getting hitched and quick. And Felicity? She had no desire to get married just yet. She hadn’t even laid a hand on a single patient. And the moment a Navy nurse was married? Well, she had to kiss her nursing career goodbye. And Felicity had _ not _graduated high school early, worked for two years to save money, and then gone to school for another three years to obtain her R.N. just to throw it all away for the first sailor to bat his eyes at her. 

She was here for her career. Not for a husband. 

\-----

Oliver surveyed the view from his officer housing on the island with a nod of approval. 

He’d endured countless tutors and watched his parents grease plenty of palms to get him to this point but even their influence had only gotten him so far. Oh certainly, it had helped that his father had been golfing buddies with their local Congressman. So when the time came for Oliver to get a Congressman’s nomination for admittance to the Naval Academy, their local representative had been all too willing. 

But Oliver had been the one to work for those four years at the Academy. And he had been the one to rise through the ranks based on his merits. 

His parents could buy much. But they couldn’t buy a rank in the US Navy. And so, Oliver was inordinately proud of his status as a commissioned officer. He was still prouder of the fact that after a few years of work, he had managed to distinguish himself from his peers enough to merit a posting at a premiere locality such as Hawai’i and the Naval Station Pearl Harbor. 

He’d been at Pearl Harbor for a year already and he still sometimes couldn’t believe his good fortune. The jewels of the Pacific Fleet were right at his fingertips and the sight of them, moored along Ford Island, was enough to make his chest puff up with pride. Gleaming battleships lay before him, each of them metallic behemoths, capable of raining down destruction or bestowing aid. Though these days, the quiet rumblings of war seemed to indicate that ‘destruction’ would be the more likely outcome for these gleaming bastions of Naval prowess. 

But that was not a certainty. Though Europe was embroiled in conflict, thus far the United States had stayed adrift from the madness. It was entirely possible they would not participate in the war at all. But given that the conflict had already been underway for a year and showed no signs of stopping, Oliver was not entirely inclined to believe that the US would be so fortunate as to escape participation. 

But if and when war came, he and his men would be ready. Sipping idly at a mug of coffee, he cast a glance in the harbor, at one ship in particular.

The USS Arizona lay, mighty and majestic and still. It was an impressive ship, one which Oliver was proud to be stationed aboard. And before his recent promotion, he had even called the USS Arizona home. It was only now, as a higher ranking officer, that he’d received quarters on shore. But the USS Arizona was still home in his heart. A ship was like a living thing and in Oliver’s mind, the crew was a ship’s heart. And the Arizona? She had a good heart. Oliver was proud to serve alongside the men that claimed the Arizona as their own. 

A flurry of activity at his door drew his attention and before Oliver could further ponder the ship he was stationed on, a motley crew of men spilled into his front room, loud and carousing already. 

“There he is!” Thomas Merlyn, ever the life of the party, roared joyously as he caught sight of Oliver and strode forward, grabbing Oliver’s mug out of his hands. Taking a deep swig of it, Tommy made a face and stared at Oliver, appalled. 

“There isn’t a drop of alcohol in that coffee, is there?” 

Oliver raised a brow and shook his head. “No. There isn’t,” he responded, coolly grabbing his mug back from Tommy before he downed the remainder of the contents in one fell swoop. “Now please, explain to me where you lot get off barging into your commanding officer’s quarters?” 

“We’re going out. All of us,” Tommy offered brightly, casting a grin at the assembled group of men. “And your presence is required.” 

“No. No, Tommy come on. You fellas know I’m deadweight when you lot go out. I’m not going to dance. I’m not going to talk to any gals. I’m just going to wind up driving your drunk as skunk behinds home.” 

“And it is precisely that generous act of service that makes you such a desirable drinking buddy, my friend. You can be counted on to act as the driver while the rest of us drink and flirt to our hearts’ content,” Diggle beamed, stepping forward to clap him on the shoulder. “So what’ll it be? Staying in solo or spending a night out with your buddies?” 

Oliver stared at them all in turn, then groaned. Shaking his head, Oliver grinned at the group of men that were his best friends aboard the ship. They were an unlikely group - Oliver a commissioned officer, Tommy a non-commissioned officer, Barry and Roy both as enlisted men, and John a Messman. They all got on quite well though, and had come to be an unexpectedly grand brotherhood. And it was owing to that sense of brotherhood that he was caving into their demands that he go with them.

“I already regret this.” 

In short order, Oliver was driving the lot of them across the island, doing his level best to keep the car on the road as his four companions whooped and generally acted like the young, twenty something year old fools that they were. 

They swept into their favorite watering hole, quickly taking up seats in their usual spot at the bar. As they watched the crowd idly, Oliver couldn’t help but shake his head in amusement as the boys began to get excited.

“Looks like the new nursing recruits made landfall!” Roy hooted delightedly, Barry and Tommy guffawing eagerly beside him. As the men commented in approving undertones about the newest faces on the island, Oliver lifted his eyes and casually perused the opposite side of the bar. It was then that he saw her and when he did, he felt as though he’d stuck a finger in an outlet as a terrific shock coursed through him. 

She was breathtakingly beautiful; she had shoulder length, golden hair and full, red lips. Both of these would have been attractive features in and of themselves. But when she cast an errant glance his way and he caught sight of her eyes, Oliver felt himself nearly fall off his barstool. Her eyes were a mesmerizing shade of blue so vivid and intense, he felt as though that simple, cursory glance had cut through the heart of him. She was petite but carried herself with a dignity and grace that amplified her presence and he found himself unable to look away.

She’d come with a friend, or so he assumed; a dark haired woman guided her around the bar with a familiarity that implied she was not a new arrival. The blonde, however, most certainly was - Oliver would have recalled if he had ever seen her before. 

Entranced, he continued to watch as they seated themselves across the way and he felt the most bizarre, powerful urge to go to her, though he resisted it - narrowly. 

The mission came first. Even before gorgeous blonde bombshells. But there was nothing against him _ looking_. And look he did - all night long. 

\-----

She’d gone with the girls to some local spot for drinks and dancing, though she had no intention of partaking in the revelry her peers were after. When she and Iris - one of the ‘veteran’ nurses who had greeted the new recruits - had settled themselves at a little booth at the back, Felicity tried to melt into the seat and disappear. The place was _ swimming _in servicemen, all of whom seemed to be chomping at the bit to ask anything in a skirt to dance. Fortunately, the permanent, grumpy look on her face seemed to keep the boys in the bar at bay and for that, Felicity was thankful.

She was here under duress, really. Iris had insisted she not stay in the bungalow on her first night on the island and Felicity had allowed herself to be pressed into coming. But that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. 

Casting a watchful eye around the room, however, Felicity found her determination to be displeased waver when she caught sight of _ him_.

He was sitting at the bar just across the way; he had light brown hair and was clean shaven - a good indication that he was likely in the service. It was a shame; with a jawline like his, she’d bet he’d look damn good with a bit of stubble. 

Hold up. Was she really ogling him and thinking about his jawline? That… That was _ so not allowed! _She was never going to stick to her ‘no settling down’ rule if she let herself ogle the first guy she laid eyes on. Guiltily, she slid her gaze back to the glass before her (water, she had adamantly refused anything alcoholic) and she tried to focus herself. 

She was only out here to try and stay on good terms with the other nurses. She didn’t want to be known as a fuddy duddy or the like. She was focused and determined but she wasn’t a stick in the mud. She could come out to the bar and have a good time without falling for some Navy boy. Almost unconsciously, her gaze slid back to the man in question and with a jolt, she realized he was looking at her too and _ oh wow. _ The look left her more than a little breathless. His eyes were ocean blue and she could have drowned in them _ happily. _

This was going to be harder than she’d thought. 

She allowed her gaze to linger on him a moment more, doing her level best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as she did so. But the more she tried to ignore them, the stronger they seemed to get. Jeepers, he was easy on the eyes. 

“Earth to Felicity? Are you there?” Iris asked, waving a hand in front of her friend’s face with a knowing grin. “I thought you said you had a strict ‘no boys’ rule?” 

“I did. I do!” Felicity chirped back, tearing her eyes (grudgingly) away from Mister Handsome. “I do. I was just… admiring the scenery,” Felicity shrugged in a poor attempt at nonchalance. Iris chuckled and nodded. 

“Uh huh. I can see that. Fortunately for you, the ‘scenery’ you’re admiring - which is, admittedly, _ very _fine scenery - is terminally unavailable.” 

Felicity felt her heart skip a beat and she swallowed thickly. 

“Oh. He’s married?” _ Good. _ That would remove temptation. Not that she was tempted. Because she definitely wasn’t. At all. 

“Only if you consider the Navy ‘wife’ material. Because the only thing that boy cares about is the mission. I’ve never seen him so much as dance with a girl; nothing and no one comes between Oliver Queen and his duty to country.” 

Felicity felt the knot of unease in her stomach unclench and she nodded, her glance wandering back to Mister Handsome with newfound appreciation. So he had a name. _ Oliver. _

“Well there you go. I can look to my heart’s content and my ‘no boys’ rule won’t be in a lick of danger. That’s a win-win if you ask me,” Felicity murmured brightly and Iris just shook her head in amusement. 

“Mhmm. Sure.” 

\-----

“Come on man, you’ve got to go talk to her. It’s been _ weeks_,” Diggle egged Oliver on but he could only shake his head and continue to stare wistfully across the bar. 

“You know my stance on relationships while I’m still serving,” Oliver countered and he heard a sigh of exasperation from behind him. 

“You are the only man I know who could turn a dance or a conversation with a pretty girl into something as complicated as a relationship. Sometimes a dance is just a dance!” Roy grumbled as he gave Oliver a playful shove with his shoulder. 

Oliver turned on his stool to face Roy and shook his head, staring the younger man down intently. 

“When I ask a girl to dance, it’s not gonna be just a dance. It’s not gonna be ‘just’ anything. If I ask a girl to dance or to talk… It’s gonna mean something.” 

“So you won’t ask her for a drink?” Barry questioned lamely and Oliver shook his head again, taking a sip of his water as he stared at the blonde longingly. 

“No Barry. I won’t ask her for a drink.” 

\-----

And he didn’t. 

Oliver hadn’t so much as spoken to the pretty blonde nurse in the weeks since he’d first laid eyes on her. But in all that time, Oliver had still watched and wondered from afar. Thanks to the boys’ attempts at being his wingmen by dancing with her nursing friends, Oliver had gleaned a little information about her. Her name was Felicity. She’d recently arrived from stateside and was a Navy nurse and extremely committed to remaining one. 

She was also perhaps the most beautiful woman Oliver Queen had ever seen but that was neither here nor there. 

Every week when he and the boys came to the bar, Oliver found himself searching for her in the crowd. And every week when he saw her sitting across the way, he was both delighted and terrified. Delighted to see her, and terrified that this would be the week some other fella would come sweep her off her feet. But so far, none had, though several brave souls had tried to get her to dance or had asked her for a drink, she’d turned them all down, albeit politely. And while his friends had tried to encourage him to take his shot, Oliver had resisted them, though his usual excuse about not wanting anything to distract him from the mission was wavering. Sure, he was still committed to serving. That wasn’t the issue. It was just… his aversion to ‘distraction’ seemed less imperative in the face of Felicity’s sky blue eyes and cherry red lips. As tempting as she was though, she was also intimidating as hell and the idea of breaking his own rule and asking her for a dance or a drink, only to be shot down? 

Well, that left him more than a little rattled. And so he sat and stared and pined for a woman he could never and would never have. Week after week after week. 

\-----

“We’re not having this conversation again, Iris.” 

“What do you mean ‘again’? We never actually get to _ have _ this conversation because you refuse to actually _ have it_, Felicity!” Iris responded back sharply but with a smile.

“He isn’t interested, Iris! If he was he would have approached me by now. But he hasn’t. Which is good, because even if he _ had _I would of course have to turn him down. And that would just make me feel bad.” 

“But here again, I will argue that you don’t _ have _to turn him down.” 

“Iris-”

“You have rules, I know. Your precious rules. But the Navy does allow you to actually have conversations with men, y’know. There’s no harm in a friendly conversation. Or in a bit of dancing.” 

“Oh please, Iris. We both know there’s way more at stake than a conversation or a dance.” 

“Only because you’re convinced that one or the other will automatically lead to marriage. You could just dance and have fun and call it a night, you know.” 

But Felicity did know. Because she was quite certain that if Oliver eyes-so-blue-you-could-drown-in-them Queen ever actually did ask her to dance, he’d dance his way right into her heart and then she’d be right where she didn’t want to be - on the verge of marriage and giving up her career. 

“I can just as easily not dance and still appreciate the view from my booth.” 

“You are impossible, you know that right?” 

“So I have been told.” 

\-----

After three months, Oliver thought he should be used to the familiar _ zing _ that he felt when he locked eyes with Felicity across the bar. But every week when it happened, he felt like he was back on the tilt-o-whirl at the fair and his stomach was flipping and flopping like a fish out of water. She made his world spin. But… in a _ good _way. 

But that still didn’t mean he was going to break his rule and approach her. No sirree. 

His friends, however, seemed to have other ideas this week. 

“Diggle, what are you doing?” Oliver asked as he saw his friend begin to head for the corner of the bar where Felicity and her friend were seated. Diggle sent him a wayward grin but carried on in his mission, approaching not Felicity but instead, her friend Iris, much to Oliver’s relief. 

He couldn’t make out the conversation but from what he could see, it looked as though Iris was gearing up to dance with Diggle. But she seemed to be making a rather big show of leaving Felicity behind. Oliver felt a cold hand of nervousness trickle down his spine and as if on cue, he saw Diggle turn to face him and wave him over. But instead of moving, Oliver felt his whole body seize up.

Out of nowhere, hands grabbed each of his arms and dragged him to his feet as Roy and Tommy half pulled, half pushed him halfway across the bar. At the midpoint, Oliver seemed to regain control of his limbs and he stumbled numbly towards Diggle, unable to meet Felicity’s gaze for the first time in the many weeks they’d been coming here. 

“There he is. Oliver, I wanted to ask Iris here to dance with me but she, being the good friend that she is, doesn’t want to leave her friend alone. I told her I had just the gentleman for the job.” Diggle grinned knowingly, his eyes glittering with mischief. 

“I’m a dead hoofer,” Oliver warned uneasily and Felicity bit her lip to hold back a smile and shrugged. 

“I’ve got two left feet.” 

“That’s alright, he’s got plenty of shoe polish, so step on him all you want, doll!” Diggle intervened, pushing Oliver towards the blonde with enthusiasm. “Take him for a spin and don’t bring him back until you’ve thoroughly exhausted him.” 

Oliver fought off a blush as he bumped against the young woman in question, who was seemingly being likewise poked and prodded by her friend. The moment the two of them faced off with each other, Diggle and Iris grabbed each other and lit out for the far corner of the bar. 

Standing awkwardly before her, Oliver offered her his right hand, uncertain what more to do.

“I’m um… Oliver.” 

“Felicity,” she responded softly, shaking his hand in hers quickly. But instead of letting go, Oliver found himself holding onto her. He felt a sensation unlike anything he’d ever known spread through him; a pleasant warmth struck him full in the face, almost like opening the stove and feeling that initial blast of heat. The warmth spread through his body, prickling his skin into goosebumps and making his toes curl delightedly. The electric feeling he had every time he made eye contact with her was even more intense up close and it was all he could do to remember to _ breathe _as he stood there, her hand in his. 

It took some long seconds, but at last he recovered enough to attempt to feign normalcy; to his relief, she seemed to be experiencing a similar effect from their meeting and she was staring at him in awe. 

“Felicity,” he began, enjoying the way her name rolled easily off his tongue, “I don’t ordinarily dance at these things,” he warned her, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously. “But I think my pal is in cahoots with your friend there. And I get the feeling that if we don’t at least make a show of spending time together, they’ll just hound us both all night.” 

To his surprise and delight, she laughed. 

“You know, I think you’re right.” 

“In that case, would you care to dance? At least until our ‘chaperones’ have found a new distraction?” 

Her hand was still in his but as he studied her, her gaze traced up his body and landed on his face. She seemed to wage a silent war with herself before she relented, bringing her other hand to curve around him in acquiescence. 

“That’d be swell.” 

He held her close against him and did his level best not to dwell on the warmth of her body against his. It was just a dance. _ Only a dance. _Nothing more. Still, it was hard to drown out the whistling and whooping of the boys, who were going positively crazy from the bar as they watched Oliver dance with Felicity. 

But the moment he looked back down at her and met her bright blue eyes, the noise from the crowded bar fell away and it was just him and her. Nothing else quite registered. 

“So what brings you to Hawai’i, Felicity?” Oliver inquired genuinely as he guided them through a mid-tempo song with ease. 

“I’m a Navy Nurse. New recruit,” she confessed, lifting her shoulders and chin with pride as she said the words.

“No kidding? And how are you liking the island so far? Not pining for home yet, are you?” 

“Not much of a home to pine for. I like it here well enough. Though I can already tell that there’s far too many distractions to do a working girl any good.” 

At this, Oliver raised a brow just before he spun her in a circle as the song picked up speed. 

“Distractions? What, like the beach? Surfing? Snorkeling?” 

“No. Like you and the rest of these Navy boys.” 

At this Oliver stopped up short, jostling Felicity and causing her to step heavily on his foot. She winced and lifted her foot right away, instantly apologetic.

“I’m so sorry-” she began, only for him to shrug off her words.

“Don’t sweat it. I was distracting you, clearly.” At his teasing she fixed him with a sharp stare but he just grinned in return and shook his head. 

“And what about you? I bet you’re looking for a girl who’ll delight in watching you run off to play the hero.” 

Oliver rolled his shoulders and shook his head, biting back his laughter. 

“Quite the opposite, actually. If I’m going to ship off, I’d rather not have my focus split between home and the mission. The fellas there,” here he paused and gestured towards his friends spread out across the bar, “they’d put a ring on the right girl the moment she came along, I reckon. But not me.” 

“You’d rather go it alone?” She supplied and Oliver nodded, then cleared his throat. 

“That’s right. It’s just… Because of the life I lead... I just think that it’s better to not be with someone that I could really care about…” He trailed off, ducking his head as he swallowed and tried to organize his thoughts. He’d explained this before to the guys and it had never seemed so difficult or so flimsy a rationale. And yet now… Now he suddenly felt as if it were. “I just think it wouldn’t be fair to take a gal’s heart and then leave her for who knows how long. I’ve got a mission to do and I gotta have my head on that and not… worrying about the girl I leave back home, y’know?” 

“Well I think… I think you deserve better than that.” 

At this, Oliver blanched, taken completely aback by her response. He blinked owlishly at her for a moment and then leaned into her as he directed them speedily across the crowded dance floor as the tempo increased still more.

“You’re sweet to say that. But you couldn’t possibly know what I do or don’t deserve, Felicity. You’ve known me all of what, ten seconds?” 

“And I knew it in five,” she responded sharply, spinning so that her back was against his chest as he twirled them about with ease. “Anybody willing to put his whole life on hold to serve his country? Who’s also willing to sacrifice and risk his life to protect the lives of others? Well… from where I stand? That’s a hero. And a hero deserves better than what you just described.” 

She spun again to face him, her eyes bright as they bore into his own as the pair moved to the fringe of the dance floor, their tempo slowing as they did. 

“So I guess what it comes down to is this: either what you said to me is true and you’re a hero and you deserve better, or everything you told me was false and you’re a liar, who deserves what you just described. So which is it? Are you a hero or a liar?” 

They fell silent, reduced to simple, slow swaying on the edge of the crowd. Oliver was deaf to the hooting and hollering of the loud club; his focus was entirely on Felicity. Something about her had taken him aback; she was a most unexpected - but delightful - breath of fresh air. And for the first time since he’d been stationed at Pearl Harbor, Oliver realized he’d met a woman who was more than an equal match for him.

And for the first time, Oliver was looking at a woman who made him actually _ feel _something. 

When the song came to an end, Oliver found himself reluctant to let Felicity go, his hands still loosely gripping her by the waist. As his eyes flitted to hers, he found Felicity staring up at him fixedly and he felt heat rise in his cheeks. 

“Felicity… if it isn’t too much of a distraction, I’d very much like to buy you a drink.” 

Oliver felt like he was two feet tall as he stood waiting for her answer, sweating bullets - though he hadn’t any clue why. There were no stakes here. They’d both made their intentions plainly known. Neither of them were after relationships, and Oliver couldn’t fathom the concept of ‘messing around’ with Felicity. She wasn’t a ‘messing around’ type of gal.

She was the real deal. And he wasn’t about to insult her by treating her as anything less. But if they couldn’t be a flyby, one night type of thing, and if they couldn’t be a serious relationship, then perhaps they could be friends? 

He’d never really done the ‘friends’ thing with a girl before. But God help him if he didn’t want to know more about the bespectacled blonde before him. 

She regarded him for a long minute, her lips pressed into a thoughtful, red line before finally curving upwards into a lopsided smile. She rolled her eyes and laughed as if to herself. 

“You promise this isn’t some elaborate scheme to get me to fall madly in love with you?” 

He raised his hand aloft, just as he had at his swearing in ceremony with the Navy, and he stared at her with an honest, clear expression.

“On my honor. No tricks. I’d just like to buy you a drink and maybe… find out more about you. As a friend?” 

She regarded him with mock suspicion but finally shrugged her shoulders good naturedly and nodded, her golden curls bouncing freely around her cheeks as she did so. With a smile, Oliver offered her his arm and with a chuckle, she took it and trailed along beside him as they went to the bar. 

It was just drinks, Oliver told himself. They weren’t exchanging vows. 

\-----

From the opposite side of the bustling club, John watched Oliver pivot towards the bar, the pretty blonde on his arm and he could only chuckle. Turning back to Iris, he regarded the young woman with a knowing grin. 

“Your friend is in for it now. She’s having a drink with my pal.” 

“She is not!” Iris gasped, lightly smacking John’s arm as she stood on the tips of her toes to see across the way, her jaw dropping as she caught sight of Felicity accepting a bright blue drink from Oliver, complete with mini umbrella. Just as quickly as Iris had gotten excited, however, she cooled and waved a hand at the pair dismissively. “She swore she wouldn’t let herself get swept off her feet by any fellas. She’s adamant that nothing interfere with her nursing career. I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

“Well, I’ll tell you this: I’ve known Oliver since he’s been stationed here and never, _ not once_, has he ever looked twice at any of the girls to come through here - except for your friend. And he’s certainly never asked a girl to dance - let alone offered to buy one a drink. So whatever your friend may think of him, one thing’s certain - Oliver’s already smitten with her.” 

\-----

The ensuing year was a whirlwind of unexpected delights. Somehow, Oliver found himself breaking every rule he had laid out for himself. His self imposed solitude fell by the wayside the moment he opened the door and let Felicity in and despite his insistence that duty came first, he found it impossible to regret letting his devotion slide long enough to open his world to her. 

Felicity had the inexplicable ability to make everything - himself included - _ better. _Despite his misgivings about relationships splitting a soldier’s focus, Oliver found himself more keenly dialed in than ever before. Whereas before he had planned on fighting for country and for duty, as time wore on he found that he was going to be fighting for a more specific, more intimate reason: for Felicity. 

Of course, that was all still conjecture; war, though raging on in Europe, had not yet touched the sun kissed beaches of their tropical paradise, nor the more mundane shores of the mainland. Thus far, the US had managed to avoid entanglement in the ever escalating fight. But it was always there, in the background of their lives. 

The week that Felicity and Oliver first danced together, the US instituted the first peacetime draft in American history, which Oliver and the boys quickly bemoaned, knowing how many green young upstarts it would add to their ranks. By the time Oliver took Felicity out for a proper date almost a week later (a romantic candlelit dinner for two), Germany, Italy, and Japan had signed the ‘Tripartite Act’, giving themselves the right to establish a new order in Europe and Asia alike. By the time Oliver and Felicity had been going steady a month (which they celebrated by seeing a movie at the drive in), Italy invaded Greece. Just shy of the couple’s six month anniversary, Roosevelt signed the Lend-Lease Act and Navy and Army boys alike began siphoning away from Hawai’i to lend aid to Great Britain. 

Though it was tempting to consider throwing in with the Brits, Oliver refrained; his duty was to the US and though they were not yet actively engaged in the fighting, he sensed that they soon would be. And when that day came, he wanted to be here, ready to fight for America. And for his favorite gal in all fifty states and the world over. 

By August of 1940, the US was lending aid to the Soviet Union as well as Great Britain. But still Oliver refrained from going, instead throwing himself into readying the men at his command as best he could. War was coming; the US could only lend aid for so long before being drawn into the fray. On the very evening when Oliver and Felicity celebrated their one year anniversary (belatedly, due to their conflicting, ever intensifying work schedules) a German U-boat sank a US navy vessel and Oliver felt certain that this would be the straw to break the camel’s back and send the country veering into war. Yet somehow, the nation held out and a tenuous ‘peace’ persisted. Even a month later, as Oliver and Felicity danced at the self same watering hole where they’d first laid eyes on each other, Roosevelt extended the Lend-Lease Act to the Soviet Union as well. 

Try though America might, Oliver could see the invisible strings of fate slowly pulling the country deeper and deeper into the conflict. Soon, it would be upon them. But until that fateful day, Oliver was determined to enjoy every moment with Felicity here in their tropical paradise. And despite his previous resistance, he now knew that there was one thing he needed before he could boldly go join the fighting overseas.

The question was, did he have the guts to actually go out there and get it? 

\-----

“Queen, what’s buzzin’ cousin?” Tommy inquired as he slung an arm around Oliver’s neck. Finished with their day’s work, the group of young men had been quick to depart the deck of the USS Arizona, bound for off duty debauchery. “Are you gonna come with us to the bar? You know we’ve got to beat those flyboys at darts and you’re our ace.” 

“Merlyn, you can flap your lips at him all night. You know he’s going to see his dame.” Roy hounded the two officers as he shook his head. 

“Again? Seriously? It’s gonna be a gas, you can’t miss it!” Barry protested and before Oliver could open his mouth to respond, John cut in. 

“Ease up on him Allen.”

“What, we get the brush off just because he’s got the hots for the cute nurse? What happened to ‘no distractions’, eh?” Tommy protested, only to be elbowed in the gut by John. 

“Look at him! He’s all spivvied up. He looks like he’s got a big night planned. If anything is distracting him from what he wants, it’s _ us _ distracting him from _ her. _Go on, Queen,” John encouraged. 

“If you meatballs promise not to breathe a word about it, I’ll tell you something,” Oliver offered and the four men leaned in eagerly, nodding their agreement. Wordlessly, Oliver dug into the pocket of his white service uniform and withdrew the ring box he’d been carrying around for weeks now, though in his heart he had known far longer that Felicity was the one.

“I’m going to pop the question… _ Tonight. _” 

“What the frig!” Tommy yelped, grabbing Oliver’s hand to bring the ring closer for him to inspect. Meanwhile, Roy gaped at him in shock.

“I knew you liked her but I didn’t realize she was marriage material!” Roy muttered in surprise. “I thought you were just having fun!”

“That’s why the Navy doesn’t pay you to think, Harper,” Barry retorted with a snort.

“Congratulations. Let us know how it goes. And if you feel like you are about to spew, don’t worry, that’s supposed to be normal!” Diggle teased, clapping Oliver on the back. The group of men continued to talk until they reached shore; Tommy, Barry, Roy, and John headed for their usual bar, while Oliver turned and headed in the direction of the base hospital. 

“Felicity! Your anchor clanker is here!” Iris teased as she caught sight of Oliver standing dutifully outside the hospital a short while later as he waited for Felicity to get off from her shift. Felicity looked up from the young enlisted man she was helping, who was currently convalescing from a broken leg after a nasty fall aboard the USS West Virginia. 

Her eyes followed Iris’ point and the moment she caught sight of Oliver, her face brightened and she hurried to finish tending to her patient. 

“Where are you and your dreamboat off to tonight?” Iris questioned over her shoulder as she restocked the morphine cabinet. 

“Well, Oliver is keeping it a surprise. He just told me to be ready to celebrate,” Felicity beamed as she quickly wrapped up the last of her duties. From the other side of the hospital wing, she heard Iris give a long, low whistle. 

“Sounds like someone’s getting ready to step off the plank, if you ask me,” Iris commented with a grin. Felicity’s jaw dropped in response and she shushed her friend as she swept across the wing to whisper with her.

“Where did you get that idea?! Did Oliver say something to you?” Felicity grilled Iris anxiously, her eyes studying the other woman intently. Iris held her hands before her innocently.

“He hasn’t said anything, it’s just a guess! You two have been going steady for over a year! Not to mention the fact that there’s a war knocking on our door. If he’s going to go off fighting, he probably wants to know he’ll have a honey back home to write to.” 

“He doesn’t have to marry me to write to me!” Felicity whispered back nervously. 

“Don’t freak Felicity, I was only guessing!” 

“But Iris, if I say yes… I’ll have to leave the Nurse Corps! You know the Navy’s marriage policy is very clear on that - no married women can serve as nurses!” 

Iris fixed a cool stare at Felicity then and reached a hand out to hold hers. 

“I know. And I know that’s why you were adamant about not dating anyone in the first place. It’s a crummy policy if you ask me. But you can join the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps instead! Or the Women’s Army Corps! You can change where you work, Felicity. But what won’t change is the way you and Oliver look at each other. You love him. And he’s a humdinger of a guy, so it’s a safe bet he loves you too. Don’t let that go just because Uncle Sam thinks a married woman can’t pull double duty as a nurse.” 

Felicity exhaled slowly and then nodded, her gaze turning to the nearby window where she could just make out the crisp white figure of Oliver in his dress uniform, waiting for her still. 

“Okay. I’m done for the night, Iris. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Bright and early. I don’t know whose grand idea it was to put us on the late shift and then have us back first thing in the morning. And on a weekend! It’s criminal,” Iris tutted unhappily. 

Felicity chuckled and made her way outside, smoothing the fabric of her pristine white skirt as she turned the corner and came face to face with him and _ oof_. Her fella was easy on the eyes, that was for certain. Even after a year of drinking him up, she still couldn’t help the sparks that went coursing through her veins every time she laid eyes on him and each time they touched. There was just something about him that she reacted to in a physical way, each and every time without fail. 

“Hey there, Sailor,” she greeted him, the smile on her lips growing as he spun to face her with a soft grin and a sparkle in his eyes. 

“Hey yourself, ma’am,” he responded teasingly, sweeping his hat off of his head as he gave a little bow before her. Felicity couldn’t help the giggle that loosed itself from her throat at this gesture. As he stood up again, she stepped up to him and kissed him quickly on the lips, her cheeks coloring as she did so, surprised by her own forwardness. 

But with Iris’ words ringing in her ears, it was hard to restrain herself. She did love him. And over the course of the last year, as they’d watched the rest of the world fall apart, he’d become the undeniable foundation of her universe here at Pearl Harbor. He was her constant and for that and a million other reasons, she loved him.

“What was that for?” Oliver asked, looking happily dazed following the kiss. His hand sought hers and together, they strolled hand in hand down the street, heading in the general direction of the beach. 

“Just because,” she responded quietly, her thoughts crowding her head and leaving room for little else. 

If Oliver proposed, she would have to give up her nursing career to be with him. At least until she could figure out another way to serve her country - Iris was right that not every service was as strict as the Navy. But most were limiting in some form or fashion. If it wasn’t marriage that got you dismissed, then it was starting a family. It seemed that being a nurse and serving her country could only be accomplished if she didn’t follow her heart, at least in the eyes of the government. 

And Iris was right. It was downright crummy. But there was more than one way to help with the war effort. And really, she _ hated _ dealing with needles anyway. So giving up her career, while not ideal, certainly wouldn’t be the worst thing. Her friend Alena worked as a secretary in the communications office. It wasn’t glamorous, but it _ did _put her right in the middle of the fray, from a safe distance. 

Sitting at a desk really didn’t seem like such a bad job. And if she proved to them that she was capable, she might even get a chance to see some of the telegrams as they came in. She’d be one of the first to see things and in a way, she’d be watching over Oliver, if he did get shipped off to Europe (as she feared he would). 

But she was counting chickens before they’d hatched. There weren’t even eggs to count yet. There was just her and Oliver and honestly, that was all that she needed. That was all that mattered. The rest was just… details. They could figure those out later. 

“I love you,” Felicity said suddenly, giving his hand a gentle tug to stop him in the middle of their walk. “I just… you know that, don’t you?” 

He was silent for a moment as he stared down at her adoringly and then he slowly nodded, watching her with a closed mouth smile. 

“I do know that, Felicity. And you know I love you too, right? I’d go ten rounds with the Axis powers today if I had to for you.” 

“Well hopefully it doesn’t come to that but if it does, the Allies are in good hands,” Felicity teased softly, touching a hand to his face tenderly. She pressed another kiss to his lips and he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer as he deepened the kiss.

“Let’s go to the beach,” he whispered against her when they finally broke apart.

“We’re still in uniform!” Felicity reminded him breathlessly and Oliver shrugged with a rogue grin before he shucked off his Officer jacket and slung it over his shoulder in a move so carefree, she could only laugh and follow his lead, shrugging off her dark nursing cape only to don it around her neck like a lazy scarf. Oliver chuckled and reached a hand towards her which she eagerly accepted. Hand in hand again, he led her to his waiting Ford Cabriolet. In short order, they were driving through the city streets, bound for their favorite beach spot that they’d encountered on one of their first dates more than a year ago.

They kicked off their socks and shoes in the car and made their way onward in bare feet, all laughter and smiles as they went, kicking sand at each other like a couple of love struck kids. 

Despite it being a Saturday night, the beach was mostly empty - most of the servicemen stationed at Pearl Harbor preferred Waikiki, so they had the place mostly to themselves. And honestly, Felicity was glad for it. While she didn’t have a problem with Oliver or his friends, it was often a bit overwhelming to be at a bar filled with a bunch of servicemen puffing their chests and bickering over Army versus Navy and the like. 

No, Felicity liked it best when it was just her and Oliver and the rest of the world fell away. And tonight? Tonight it looked like she was going to get precisely that. 

They found a place beneath one of the palms at the edge of where the beach met the jungle and together they collapsed beneath it, Oliver leaning against the tree trunk and Felicity leaning against him. 

For a time, they sat in companionable silence and watched the waves, simply enjoying each other’s company. They twined their hands together and Felicity rested her head on his shoulder, snuggling close to him.

She always felt safest and happiest when she was with Oliver. His arms were the one place that always felt like home and tonight was no different. The familiar warmth of his body and the soft sweet embrace she’d come to adore were all that she needed. 

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” Oliver breathed after a time and Felicity hummed a quiet noise of agreement, turning her gaze from the ocean to him, only to find he was staring at her and not the sea. 

“Felicity,” he whispered, his voice low and serious, “I love you so much, sometimes I can hardly breathe. You… You are my reason for getting out of bed every day. Even when the world feels dark and hopeless, you’re my light.” 

“Oliver,” she murmured his name in the dusky quiet, unable to tear her eyes off of him. As she watched, he reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a dark blue velvet ring box and the very sight of it made her gasp in surprise, all coherent thought having fled her.

“Felicity, I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, or next month, or next year. The world is a mess but when I’m with you… none of that matters. With you, everything makes complete sense. You… You are my peace. You are my joy. Felicity… You are my future.” 

As she watched him, he drew away from her and positioned himself into a kneel, the ring box held aloft before him but as yet, still unopened. 

“When I first got to Pearl Harbor, I was determined that the only way I could fulfill my mission and be a good officer was to keep to myself and stay unattached. But now… Now I see that having your love, your light, and your support? That makes me better. I am a better man and a better officer because of you. And I know that this war may turn everything topsy turvy. I know that marrying me would mean you would have to give up something that you love. And I don’t want to make you choose between me and being a nurse. So just know that… If you want? This ring can be as far as it goes, until you’re ready to leave nursing - if you ever do. And if that day never comes, that’ll be alright. Because Felicity Smoak… I love you. I don’t _ need _anything else - I don’t need to get married. I just want to be with you. And if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to be a man worthy of you. If that’s as your husband, or as your fiance, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be here. Every single day. Because I love you. And I’ll be with you any which way that you’ll have me.” 

As he finished his impassioned speech, he cracked open the small ring box and revealed the sizable diamond ring within. Felicity’s heart hammered loudly in her chest as she tried to take in this dizzying new development.

Oliver had asked her to marry him. What’s more, he had done it in such a way that he had given the full power of their future over to her. She could choose to say yes and go through with marrying him, the way a normal girl would. Or, she could say yes but keep him waiting, leaving the two of them in an indefinite limbo until she was ready to leave nursing - if she ever even would be. 

And truly, she did not want to give up her job; Felicity loved being a nurse. She loved serving her country and she loved tending to the eager young men who would, more than likely, go on to defend America in the war that seemed every day to move a little closer to them. 

But she also loved Oliver. And though it pained her to think of giving up everything she had spent the last few years working to achieve, Felicity was certain of one thing: her love for Oliver was greater than her love for her job. It was greater than her love of service to her country, even. 

Love, of the sort that she and Oliver shared? It was bigger than either of their plans. Bigger than either of their missions. Love like theirs was bigger than the universe, even. 

She could serve in other ways. Like Iris had said, there were other organizations that would allow her to be married and be a nurse. And there were other jobs she could hold that would help her country, if indeed they went to war. Marrying Oliver wouldn’t require giving up her dream - because her dreams had started changing the day they’d met. 

With a start, Felicity realized she’d been silent all this time; Oliver was still before her on one knee, looking positively pale and on the verge of passing out. Her hands framed his face and she swooped in to kiss him deeply, unable to contain the joy she felt radiating off of herself. As she broke away from the kiss she nodded against him, still holding his face even as she half gasped, half cried the words.

“Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Oliver Queen.” 

His eyes lit up like the Fourth of July and he surged forward to kiss her back, a kiss brimming with emotion but cut somewhat short by Oliver’s inability to stop smiling. He pulled back from her long enough to take her hand and slip the ring upon it before he swept her up into his arms and kissed her in earnest this time, the end result leaving Felicity so thoroughly dizzied that she had to cling to him for balance long after he’d set her down. 

She couldn’t take her eyes off of him as her feet touched back on the sandy earth; he’d asked her to _ marry him. _A year ago, she’d have dismissed the very notion. But now? Now… Felicity couldn’t help but already envision the future they could have together. A beach wedding. A honeymoon to some far flung, exotic locale. A cozy love nest for two. 

And maybe even, eventually, a home for more than two…? 

Ten seconds of being engaged to him and her imagination was already running rampant, concocting visions of their life together as man and wife. Somewhere along the way in the last year, she’d lost her stoic mask, apparently, and replaced it with a romantic veneer.

“You know, a year ago I would have scoffed at this very scenario,” Felicity remarked smilingly, wrapping her arms around him familiarly. 

“A year ago I would have decked myself for even thinking of asking you to dance, let alone asking you to marry me,” Oliver returned with a knowing smile. “Things change. People change. And ordinarily I’m not a big fan of change but just this once… I think I’m good with it.” 

“Me too.” 

They shared another kiss; this one tender and slow but building to something more. When Oliver’s lips drew away though, his face hovered close and his nose nuzzled hers. 

“Dance with me?” 

Felicity couldn’t manage words in the moment, so instead she nodded at him breathlessly and quietly accepted his offered hand. Together in the sand, they swayed to a melody all their own; the low brass notes of the ocean in the background, the soft string melody of the palm fronds jostling in the mild breeze. All of it formed a perfect refrain as the pair danced together, their heads curved towards each other tenderly. 

“We’ll get a nice house back on the mainland,” Oliver murmured after a long while, his lips curving into a soft smile. “Nothing _ too _big. But something with good bones. Big enough for us to grow into. With a tree in the front big enough for a tire swing.”

Felicity hummed happily against him, quickly picking up on what he was doing. 

“We’ll paint the shutters green and the front door to match. And we’ll get a mailbox that says “The QUEENS” on it,” she sighed against him, delighting in the way he pulled her snugly to his chest. 

“Mmm. I like the sound of that. ‘The Queens’; it has a nice ring to it,” Oliver hummed before he pressed a kiss just behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine. 

“We’ll need to fill that house. Otherwise all those rooms will just sit empty,” Felicity pointed out in a demure tone.

“We can’t have that,” Oliver returned with a playful yet simultaneously shy grin. “How many occupants do you think we’ll need?” 

“At least two,” Felicity returned quickly. “One of each would be nice, don’t you think?” 

“A boy and a girl. Mmm. That would be something, alright.” 

They swayed together right there, beneath the palm trees and stars, for some time until at last, they tumbled into the sand, exhausted but delightfully so. Lying side by side, Felicity’s fingers sought out Oliver’s and she twined their hands together when she found his. She felt him stir beside her and in short order, Oliver had propped himself up onto his elbows, her hand in one of his while the other pointed at the sky. 

“Do you see that right there?” In response, Felicity made a muffled noise of assent and Oliver chuckled but kept going. “That’s the North Star. Hawai’i is the only state where you can see it _ and _the Southern Cross,” Oliver stated matter of factly and Felicity smiled as she curled against his side. 

“Tell me more.” 

“Of all the stars that we can see on Earth, eighty percent of them are visible from right here in Hawai’i.”

“Sounds like Heaven on Earth.” 

“I’d say that describes my view pretty accurately,” Oliver murmured quietly and Felicity turned her gaze to find him staring at her, his eyes soft with adoration. 

“Oliver Queen, you smooth talker, you.” 

“I mean every word.” 

And Felicity knew that really, he truly did. 

Together, they stayed out all night, stargazing and murmuring quiet little hopes and dreams to each other, delighting in yet another level of intimacy that their engagement had added to their relationship. Already they were planning their lives together, in the whispered, dreamt of futures they exchanged in quiet undertones. 

Dreaming of tomorrow was so much easier with him at her side; Felicity didn’t know what her future held professionally but somehow, with Oliver there next to her, that wasn’t so frightening. Everything she wanted and needed was right here, holding her close and whispering sweet nothings in her ears. 

\-----

The sound of the explosion rocked them awake.

Still lying together beneath the trees on the sand, the pair surged to their feet, their hearts drumming as they ran out from the jungle and onto the beach. A large, black plume of smoke was visible already from their vantage point, and the drone of the planes surging across the skyline made Oliver’s blood go cold. 

“Oh my god,” Felicity gasped from beside him as they gaped at the planes buzzing low across the island. “D-Do you think it was a… a training exercise accident?” 

“No,” Oliver exhaled, unable to help the fear entering his voice, “I don’t think it was.” He continued to study the distant planes, his heart pounding. There hadn’t been any mention of planes like this in any of the reports he’d read. Which wasn’t to say they were definitely enemy planes. 

But unplanned planes arriving en masse at the same time as an ammunitions accident or a training exercise gone wrong? No. Oliver’s gut told him unmistakably that something was very, _ very _ wrong. 

“Oliver… what part of the island is that smoke coming from?” Felicity’s voice was hoarse and pinched and he knew in that moment, she already knew the answer. But she needed to hear him say it.

“It’s… It’s the harbor,” he croaked worriedly and Felicity’s eyes flashed with fear.

“Oliver… Oliver I’ve got to get to the hospital. _ Now_!” 

“Felicity it might not be safe-” Oliver began to protest but she could only shake her head. 

“No arguing. There are boys out there that are going to need medical treatment. I can help them. We have to go!” 

Nodding numbly, Oliver ran back under the palm trees to fetch her cape and his jacket, draping the dark cape across her shoulders tenderly before they began their hasty flight back to civilization. When they reached the car, still parked where they had left it the night before, they both hopped inside and in short order, Oliver was burning rubber as he guided the vehicle towards the harbor. 

“Oliver what’s happening?” Felicity asked seriously as planes continued to roar by over their heads and continued explosions sounded, more and more black smoke spreading across the sky. “And don’t tell me it’s classified! If you know, I want to know.”

“I don’t know, Felicity,” he admitted honestly, his grip on the steering wheel white knuckled as he craned his neck to get a view of the planes. “I think World War II just decided it was done waiting on us to get involved.” Oliver grunted as he brought the car squealing around a turn, narrowly avoiding a vehicle stopped in the middle of the road, the driver busy gawking at the sky above. 

Felicity didn’t answer him but continued to stare out the windows as Oliver tried to navigate them closer to the hospital. As they neared it though, one thing became abundantly clear - this was much _ much _worse than either of them had anticipated.

“GET DOWN!” Oliver shouted at one point, flinging himself atop Felicity as a metallic staccato tore through the air. Bullets punctured the vehicle, narrowly missing the couple within as the responsible plane roared past them. 

“WHY ARE THEY SHOOTING AT US?!” Felicity cried, clinging tight to Oliver. 

“Because we’re the enemy now,” Oliver answered her, panting as he sat back up and gently pried himself away from her, kissing her hand before he clambered back into the driver’s seat. He threw the car in gear without delay, sparing only a casual glance to the bullet holes now punched through the car’s roof. “And that makes this a war zone. Stay down, Felicity. It’s only going to get worse.”

And it did. The strafing continued the closer they got to the harbor, racing around military outposts that had been bombed and shot at by the enemy planes. Felicity stared in horror from her vantage on the floorboard as they zipped by the wreckage of places that had just yesterday, been scenic hangouts for herself and her friends.

How quickly their island paradise had turned into a nightmare. 

As they neared Hospital Point, a loud roar drew their attention. As the hospital came into view, they could see through the haze that a bomb had just exploded in front of it. The lawn was ruined but thankfully, the building itself appeared untouched. The patio was a hive of activity, with nurses and doctors rushing this way and that as they frantically tried to prepare for the casualties they knew would be imminent.

“Felicity, I don’t like this. I don’t want to leave you here,” Oliver growled as he pulled the car to a stop as close to the hospital as he could get, given the debris the bomb had strewn about. 

“_ Me?! _ You’re the one who’s about to go down to that harbor and don’t even try to tell me that you aren’t. I know you, Oliver Queen, and I know that you can’t help yourself. When there are people in trouble or in need, the hero in you comes out,” Felicity shot back at him as she threw open the car door, prompting Oliver to scramble out after her. 

“That’s my job, Felicity! I’ve got to get down there and try to help. By the look of things, we’re not even an hour into this war and we’re already losing!” Oliver argued and Felicity scowled before she marched up to him and kissed him fiercely. 

She’d caught him by surprise and he took a moment before he responded, kissing her back even as he backed her away from the street and near to the porch railing of the hospital. He could have kissed her for an eternity, even with hell raining down on them from above. If he was going to die - and there was every possibility he would before this day was over - he’d rather die kissing her than doing most anything else. 

When they broke apart she grabbed his chin in her hand and held it tightly, her eyes flashing fiercely at him.

“You come back to me. Do you hear me?” 

He nodded, hating himself for it even as he did it. He’d do everything in his power to get back to her. But he had a feeling that what he was walking into… it wouldn’t give him the choice of staying with her or leaving her. A bullet or a bomb snuffed out life indiscriminately. This much, he already knew. 

“Promise me, Oliver. Say that you promise you will come back to me,” she gasped, her eyes wet with unshed tears. 

“I promise,” he answered her hoarsely, and every fiber of his being meant it as deeply as he could. If there were any way for him to do so, he’d return to her. “I mean to marry you, remember? No way I leave this Earth without making good on that promise.” He’d meant it to be teasing but even as he said the words, he saw her eyes drop to the ring on her finger, then lift back to his face with tears tracing down her cheeks.

“I love you,” Felicity whimpered as her arms wrapped around him tightly. Embracing her in return, he placed a loving kiss to the crown of her head.

“I love you too. Be safe, alright? Please… don’t leave the hospital, Felicity. I will come back to you. I will come right back here for you. I just… I need you to stay here, with the hospital staff and the others. _ Safe_.” 

She swallowed once as she looked up at him, then nodded through her tears. He pressed an unexpected and urgent kiss to her lips, silently delighting in her quiet gasp. His hands framed her face and held her there for a moment, soaking up every detail of her to give him strength for what he was about to face. And then, just as suddenly, he broke away from the kiss and turned to walk away from her, determined not to turn around.

He made it back to his car before he couldn’t bear it any longer and he turned to search for her. His eyes found her familiar figure quickly and he watched her dart up the hospital steps and disappear into the swirl of activity within. Leaving her was like having his still beating heart ripped out of his chest but he took solace in knowing that here in the hospital, she was as safe as he could make her; if the enemy had any honor, they wouldn’t fire upon civilians and the hospital was far enough removed from the Harbor that to fire upon it would be risking civilian casualties. The hospital was one of the safest places he could leave her, short of locking her up in a civilian area, which she would have fought against tooth and nail. 

_ Felicity was safe. _Or so he had to tell himself, pushing aside the memory of the bomb that had gone off on its very lawn. She was as safe as she could be. Now he had to see to his men on the Arizona, who were very much in danger. With that in mind, he turned and headed for the harbor, his heart banging erratically against his ribcage.

As he directed his car towards the pier, one of the stern warships came steaming by and even as he watched, it drew enemy fire from above as the ship hurtled towards the narrow harbor exit. It seemed that the ship’s crew had the same realization Oliver did at about the same time.

If the ship made it to the mouth of the harbor and was sunk, her wreckage would block the only exit, creating an inescapable situation for the rest of the ships and making entry to or exit from Pearl Harbor impossible. 

As Oliver watched, the ship veered towards land - towards _ him _\- and began to run aground. 

He wrenched the steering wheel and guided the battered vehicle away from the water’s edge just as the ship grounded itself along Hospital Point, the impact seeming to jar the entire world. Oliver kept urging the car onward, even as further explosions and flames roared up around the harbor. 

He had to get to the Arizona. He had to get to his ship and his men and he had to help them fight this. But as he finally threw the car in park and hopped out of it, the harbor before him was virtually unrecognizable. Scanning the pier before him, Oliver realized that between the pitch black smoke and the raging flames, visibility was next to none. 

But it didn’t matter. He knew the layout of this port well enough to navigate it in his sleep. If he had to navigate it damn near blind, then he would do it. Oliver heard shouting ahead of him and raced for the water’s edge just in time to see a couple of fellas pushing a dinghy into the water. 

“Hey! Hold up there!” Oliver shouted, waving his arms as he sprinted towards the pair of men. “Where are you headed?” 

“Anywhere they need us!”

And that was good enough for Oliver. Without delay, he jumped aboard and began to help the pair of men as they made for the proud Navy vessels that had unceremoniously fallen under attack and which now sat, besieged and unable to fight back, sitting ducks for the enemy above their heads.

\-----

Time ceased to matter once Felicity entered the fray that was the hospital. Minutes and seconds held no sway; they counted time by the number of instances in which bullets sprayed across the area surrounding the hospital and by the number of explosions that rent the air, some distant and some less so.

She had only just left Oliver when another wave of planes surged over the island, leaving a wave of destruction behind them. And as she raced to throw mattresses over patients and against windows for added protection, she couldn’t help but wonder where Oliver was and if he was safe.

_ No. _ She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow her focus to be split. Oliver was safe. He had promised her that he would come back to her and she had to believe in that with her whole self or she’d collapse into a huddled, sobbing mess. Her tears couldn’t help Oliver or the other men out there. Her stoicism, however, could. 

She threw herself into preparations, running supplies from the storage locker to the main hall, prepping beds, readying disinfectants, drawing up meds, and countless other tasks. Stoicism, however, went out the window when she caught sight of Iris, wild eyed and urgent as she prepped surgical tools. Felicity threw her arms around the young woman, fighting off tears as she did so. 

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” Felicity breathed as she pulled back from the embrace, looking into her friend’s eyes intently. 

“I could say the same. When you didn’t show up at the start of shift, I worried,” Iris confessed and Felicity shook her head, unable to suppress one short, sharp laugh as she held her left hand aloft. 

“You were right,” she sighed and Iris’ eyes widened as an unsteady grin stole across her features.

“He asked?! And you said yes!?” Iris gasped and Felicity nodded. In response, Iris squared her shoulders. “Well then we’ve got nothing to worry about. Because these hooligans don’t stand a chance against our boys if Oliver Queen is out there fighting to protect his Missus.” 

The two women shared a look and gripped each others hands reassuringly before they split up and carried on with the gargantuan task of preparing for the unthinkable. 

But the moment the first of the wounded stumbled in, Felicity’s instincts kicked in and the unthinkable, impossible, overwhelming nature of the scenario fell away. All she knew was that these men were hurt and she could help them. That was all that mattered. 

The men were covered in oil from the damaged ships in the harbor, many of them were burned, and still others had flesh wounds from enemy strafing. Her stomach churned as the smell of burnt flesh hit her nostrils but she took a deep breath and plunged onward, staunching bleeding wounds and trying to direct the injured in as orderly a fashion as she could manage. 

But as wave after wave of broken men made their way inside, it became clear that no amount of organization or order would be able to make their limited resources spread far enough, fast enough. There were too many wounded and too few hospital staff, with precious few drugs and supplies to go around. 

But she was doing well enough at keeping her head above water, so to speak, right up until the moment she looked out one of the few windows without a mattress blockading it. The lawn of the hospital was swallowed up by the walking wounded, staggering towards the only help left to them. And it wasn’t just the lawn - as far as she could see from her vantage, the injured stumbled towards the place they perceived as refuge from the hell they were living.

“IRIS!” Felicity shouted, tying off the tourniquet for her current patient, a man whose arm had been blown off in an explosion. “We’ve got to head them off or they’re going to overrun the hospital!” Already, the dead were piling up around them and there was no telling how many more would land on their doorstep. If the hospital became too inundated to function - which it was already perilously close to - then countless more people would die. If Felicity could lend some manner of order to it, no matter how haphazard, it could help. It could save lives. 

In response to Felicity’s shouted words, Iris turned her head to peer out the window, her eyes bulging as she caught sight of the tide of wounded. Felicity finished with her patient and ran to Iris, holding the woman’s forearm as she explained. “I’m going out there. I’ll send the ones that stand a chance at surviving in here. The rest… we’ll manage. Somehow.” 

Before Iris could say a word to dissuade her, Felicity made a beeline for the front doors of the hospital. Working her way through the incoming men, she began to direct them based on the severity of their injuries. Those with survivable wounds, she sent inside or directed to line the porch. Those who could survive but would need surgery went one way, those who weren’t in imminent danger went another. But the others, those who she knew were not long for this earth? She did her best to make them comfortable and to ease their passing while saving the space and resources inside the hospital for those that could be saved. 

The faces all began to run together. All too often, she’d catch sight of a face she’d seen before, either at the supermarket or out dancing at a club or on board a ship. And then, she caught sight of two faces she knew all too well.

The pair of familiar figures stumbled their way closer to the hospital. They were covered in oil, the whites of their eyes flashing as they ogled the crowded hospital. Felicity felt her heart leap at the sight of them, overjoyed to see them alive. Tommy was in the lead, bleeding from a head wound and more disheveled than she’d ever seen him. Behind him, Roy labored, his left arm held at an awkward angle against his body, his right engaged in the act of carrying something.

With a start, Felicity realized that it wasn’t a ‘something’ but rather, a ‘_ someone’_. 

“TOMMY!? ROY!” Her voice rose over the din and somehow, miraculously, they heard her, both of their heads turning slowly in her direction, their eyes blankly scanning the crowded, bombed remnants of the lawn before landing on her. 

“Felicity?” Tommy called out weakly. She half ran, half stumbled towards the duo, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. As she drew nearer though, she recognized the body between the two friends. Her initial reaction was one of relief. _ It wasn’t Oliver_. Her second reaction was one of grief.

Barry, like so many of the men she’d already seen, had been horribly burned. The spiffy sailor duds he’d been so proud to wear had been charred beyond recognition, and so was the rest of him. With a shaking hand, she reached her fingers towards his throat to feel for a pulse and almost instantly, emotion bubbled up within her, obliterating her calm facade. 

“No. No no _ no!” _ Roy cried, refusing to set his friend down even as Felicity took a step away from him, her eyes overflowing with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried. 

“No, Felicity he just… He just needs the doctor. He’s gonna pull through this. He’s _ got _ to pull through this!” Tommy argued but Felicity only shook her head in response.

“He’s gone, Tommy.” 

The young man crumpled before her, clinging to his friend’s body as he did so. Tommy’s sobs broke Felicity’s heart and she couldn’t seem to stop the tears now that they’d begun to flow. Teary eyed, she gave Roy a cursory once over before she grabbed him by his shirt collar.

“Get inside the hospital. You hear me? Get inside and go to the left. You’re non-emergent but that burn needs to be treated or it’ll be bad. Go.” She left no room for argument, pointing firmly in the direction of the front entrance before she shooed Roy away. 

Together, she and Tommy moved Barry and laid him amongst the other fallen men. Tommy was still dazed and in denial but as Felicity urged him away from the body, she couldn’t resist asking him questions.

“Tommy.... Oliver went out there. Did you… did you see him?” 

At the mention of Oliver’s name, Tommy’s eyes widened and he grew suddenly more focused. 

“He’s the reason we made it here. He and a couple guys pulled us out of the water. Barry was already in a bad way but if they hadn’t grabbed us, he’d have died in the water,” Tommy trailed off, his countenance darkening as he recalled the memory of it all. 

“Tommy, you’re saying he was alive? You saw him and he was alive?” 

“Yeah. He was alive and leading some of the rescue efforts.” 

“Tommy this is important. After Oliver helped pull you out of the water, what happened?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Did he come back with you on the boat? Where is he now?” 

“He went back out on the water. I don’t know where he’s at…” Tommy trailed off distantly and Felicity touched a hand to his face as she gently prodded at his head wound, assessing the severity of it. Satisfied that he wasn’t critical, she guided him to a spot outside where he could sit.

“Tommy… how bad is it out there?” 

She wasn’t entirely certain what possessed her to ask the question. Perhaps it was born out of morbid curiosity. More likely, she was seeking some measure or scale by which to judge the events unfolding in the harbor, the better to know just how much danger Oliver might or might not be in. 

“It… There’s nothing like it. It’s awful out there, Felicity. Everywhere you look there’s death and pain and fear. It was...” he paused and took a shaky breath as he searched for words, “-an absolute nightmare.” 

Nodding faintly, Felicity left the young man and continued her work of directing the flow of the wounded. They kept coming and coming without end, burned and battered and broken beyond measure. 

But as she delicately worked with yet another fatally wounded young man, movement on the edge of her peripheral vision caught her attention and Felicity could have wept with joy at the sight of Oliver, alive and walking right toward her.

He was half carrying another man - it took Felicity half a minute to realize it was Diggle, covered in oil and clutching an actively bleeding bullet wound to the shoulder. Oliver was haggard and looked worse for wear - he was covered in grime and blood that she prayed wasn’t his own. But he was alive and he was here, just as he’d promised her. As he limped closer with Diggle’s arm slung over his shoulder, Felicity could only delight in the fact that he had kept his promise.

He’d come back to her. 

Across the sea of injured between them, their eyes met and she felt the same magnetic pull compelling her to go to him then as she had the first time they’d met. With quick steps, she began to cross the distance between them, desperate to hold him again in her arms. In her hurry, she half stumbled over a fallen soldier and she careened unexpectedly to the side, catching herself just shy of falling. Breathing heavily, she was still for but a moment as she sought him out and when her eyes landed on his again she was once more pushing her way between the men around her to get to Oliver. 

At that moment, the roar of another plane sounded overhead. So many had swooped by, most of them passing harmlessly over the hospital, some of them strafing the surrounding area and the injured men trying to get to the medical outpost, that Felicity had become numb to them. If she shrank from every plane flying over her, she would never have been able to help the men crying out in pain, in need of her knowledge and skill.

But this time, as the plane droned louder, the metallic _ pop pop pop _ of gunfire ripped through the air. And even as she stared joyously at Oliver, whole and hale before her, bullets sprayed down on the lawn, sending dirt and grass flying. There wasn’t time to react, no time to jump or duck. One moment, she was staring at the love of her life, the man she was going to _ marry_, and the next, Felicity was staring at the sky and choking for air that wouldn’t come as pain seared white hot through her chest.

Her hands shook as she tried to sit up and failed, a sharp pain screaming through her body as she tried to move. Looking down at herself, she could see a dark red stain blooming across the white fabric of her uniform with alarming speed. 

She… she’d been shot. 

Felicity tried to take a breath but she couldn’t seem to draw air; even as she struggled, liquid seemed to seep into her lungs and cut off her breathing. A wracking cough shook her body and she felt something wet at her mouth. Touching her fingers to her lips, she saw the telltale crimson and panic flared within her.

She couldn’t breathe. She was bleeding. She was shot. 

She was… she was dying. 

And with that realization she went cold, though whether from shock or pain, she couldn’t have rightly said. 

“FELICITY!” 

She could hear him but she couldn’t see him. And if she was dying (and she most certainly was, somehow, she didn’t question that) then she wanted to see him at least once more. She needed to look into those eyes, where she’d always found such love and comfort, and she needed to lose herself in them for the last time. But even as she tried to lift her head to search for him, another hacking cough went through her whole body and she couldn’t help the strangled noise of pain that escaped her as she collapsed the two inches or so she’d managed to lift herself. 

Suddenly, he was kneeling over her, his hands and his whole body, for that matter, shaking like a leaf. As she looked up into his eyes, she saw his terror reflecting back at her, the pain in his tears and the denial on his face. But looking at him, even overcome with grief as he was, Felicity couldn’t help the outpouring of love and relief she felt.

He was here. She could see him. And somehow, in that moment, that was enough. 

“You’re here,” she coughed out, her words garbled by the blood she was trying and failing not to choke on. 

“I promised you I would be,” Oliver managed to get the words out through his tears, one hand gently brushing hair away from her face. “Hold on, okay? I’m gonna… I’m gonna get you into the hospital and they’re gonna get you patched up,” he explained, moving to collect her into his arms. The subtle shift as he did so, however, jostled her enough that she cried out sharply in pain and he fell still instantly.

“Felicity, I have to move you, I have to get you inside,” he pleaded with her.

“No, Oliver,” she whimpered and shook her head faintly, blinking up at him slowly. “It’s too late.” 

“No!” He shook his head in stubborn refusal and outright denial. “No, it’s not. You’re going to be okay and we’re going to get out of here and we are going to get married and go on a honeymoon together. Anywhere you want. You hear that? It’s going to be you and me, Felicity. Until the very end.” 

“Except… the very end for me… is right now.” She panted, each word costing her a great deal to force out. Speaking was becoming increasingly difficult. She could scarcely get air and each breath had a loud, whistling wheeze to it. 

“No. No Felicity, just hang on, baby.” 

Summoning what energy she still had, Felicity lifted a hand to brush her fingers against his lips and she smiled weakly at him as he fell silent, tears streaming down his face.

“I love you, Oliver Queen…” she trailed off faintly. She was cold. So very cold. And the pain had mostly gone away, in its place a gaping numbness. The pressure in her chest continued to build and each breath was hard won and cost her more and more with every inhale. “I should have… listened to you… and stayed in the hospital…” she coughed again, harder this time, and blood dripped off her lips and down her chin. “I just… wanted to help them…” she trailed off as she half coughed, half choked on blood and Oliver touched her face with a shaking hand, in utter agony as he watched her suffer.

“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t stay inside… the hospital. I should… have listened to you… I really was looking forward… to marrying you…” she wheezed, one shaking hand reaching for his. He grabbed it quickly and held onto it steadfastly, unable to help the sobs that broke over him with the force of a tidal wave. 

“No. No regrets. No apologies. Okay?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Felicity Smoak,” Oliver cried over her, clinging to her as she began to tremble. “You hear me? I love you. _ I love you_.”

He repeated it like a mantra until long after the breath had left her body. And only then, after she had gone, did Oliver Queen give himself completely over to his grief as he held fast to her broken body, beautiful even in death.

“I’m so sorry, Felicity. I shouldn’t have left you. I’m so sorry. Please… Please don’t leave me. Please. Come back. I’ll keep you safe this time,” he pleaded with her, even knowing that it was too late. 

\-----

When the smoke cleared and the dead were counted that December day, Felicity Smoak’s name would be among the deceased. In total, 2,335 military personnel lost their lives, along with 68 civilians for a total of 2,403 dead. The United States officially entered into World War II the next day, when the country declared war on Japan. Without Felicity and lacking any sense of self preservation, Oliver was among the first to be shipped out when the war became official. Six months later, at the Battle of Midway, Oliver would be part of the US Naval battle that pushed Japanese forces back. 

Though his heart went on beating for many years after that tragic day, part of Oliver Queen’s soul died the moment the light left Felicity’s eyes. He went off to war with every intention of dying on the front lines and when that failed, he returned home to live out his days in solitude. He took no wife and fathered no children; his closest ties were to the friends he had made in Hawai’i who had survived that fatal, fateful day. Tommy was lost in the Battle of Guadalcanal, but Roy, John, and Oliver fought together at the Battle of the Philippine Sea and later, at Okinawa. All three made it home. Though they were all forever changed by the things they survived that day in Hawai’i, and the loved ones they lost along the way. 


	5. Chapter 5

It started with two, seemingly innocuous words. 

“Felicity Smoak?” 

A bespectacled blonde turned to face him, a red pen pressed against her painted lips, and in that moment, Oliver felt a powerful, magnetic draw come alive within him. There was a sudden, inexplicable pull reeling him towards her, as though fate itself was binding them together.

Two simple words, one shared look, a head tilt followed by a laugh; they were small moments that hit him with great force. Oliver could not have fought the deep seated attraction for her that he felt even if he had wanted to - and he definitely didn’t want to. He was inescapably trapped in her orbit, or she was trapped in his. Whatever the case, he could already sense the wheels of fate turning, putting them on a collision course towards one another. 

As she worked on the bullet riddled laptop he had brought her, he sat beside her, trying not to dwell on how good she smelled (floral and light). He tried not to lean in too close, though every fiber of his being screamed at him to draw nearer to her. He tried to simply enjoy sitting beside her and watching her work, her keen eyes flashing as she tapped away at her own computer. 

Before the end of their initial, brief interaction, Oliver knew that something had changed and that Felicity Smoak was going to be important to him somehow. He just didn’t know precisely how or why just yet. 

He began contriving reasons to go to her for her assistance, never bothering with elaborate or sensible cover stories. In his eagerness to see her, logical thought went out the window. He summoned her to his office to review financial and personal records for ‘his friend’ Derek Reston one week; another week, he made the trek down to IT to have her suss out the source of arrows from the mysterious archer running about in the city under the guise of buying custom arrows for his archery enthusiast pal ‘Steve’. That was the same week he learned she was Jewish and wished her a Happy Hanukkah - a fact which put a spring in his step for a full week after the interaction had transpired.

Each lie was worse than the last but he didn’t have the energy to care; all that mattered was being with her. The believability of the lie seemed unimportant in the extreme. 

He had her hack a key fob for a ‘scavenger hunt’ one week and couldn’t resist the urge to give her a friendly tap her shoulder on his way out. The result took his breath away quite literally; he couldn’t breathe for the overpowering urge to be near her, which only intensified upon the indirect contact with her. 

God help him if this was his reaction to a gentle tap of her clothed shoulder. He was in deep. 

She called him later with an update on the security fob and though he needed to focus on the call, his initial reaction was one of boyish joy that _ Felicity had his personal cell number. _ Granted, that joy was fleeting as she told him of the contents of the key fob but the fact remained. She’d _ called _ him.

When he’d taken Diggle with him to find her at QC after getting dosed with Vertigo, Oliver’s inhibitions were low and he’d not even bothered to take the Vertigo samples out of syringes to present to Felicity. Given his cover story about an energy drink, this was perhaps his worst lie yet. And when Diggle commented that his BS stories were getting worse, Oliver had not been able to deny it. 

He was well aware that he couldn’t seem to muster a passable lie for Felicity. And he couldn’t help but wonder if that wasn’t because, on some level, he _ wanted _ her to know the truth. Wanted her to know _ him, _ as ridiculous as that might be to long for. The way he felt drawn to her at every turn… that had to _ mean _something, right? How was he meant to fight it? He was being practically propelled towards her at every turn. Even the very mission he had devoted himself to seemed determined to place them together whenever it could. 

Everytime he encountered a difficulty, it seemed she was the one with the ability to remove the obstacles in his path. She was the one making his mission possible, she was the one making his life easier and better. 

When she asked to meet up and talk following his ‘I ran out of sports bottles’ spectacle, he’d been nearly giddy with joy. And when she’d asked if she could trust him, the gravitas of the moment had nearly upended him. _ Yes_. She could trust him. And he knew in return, that he could trust her, though he had no justification for that belief aside from his own gut feeling and a deeply rooted sense of faith in her. 

A faith that was put to the test a scant few weeks later when he dragged himself, wounded and bleeding out, into the back of her car in the hopes of earning her assistance. And when she clambered inside and naturally started at his presence, he threw back the green hood to reveal his identity to her without hesitation. He took some comfort in the fact that fear left her eyes when she processed that it was _him_ and not long after, he gave into the creeping tendrils of unconsciousness that had been threatening him, knowing that whatever happened, Felicity would see him safe.

The universe had brought him to her for a reason. And his trust in her knew no bounds. 

\-----

She’d believed him when he said she could trust him.

That probably made her stupid. What kind of idiot trusted the guy who brought her liquid in a syringe, claiming it was a sports drink and he’d simply ‘run out of sports bottles’? The spectrometer tests had quickly sussed out the truth of that matter but still, Felicity had done as he asked and run the tests before informing him of her findings.

But why was she helping him when he was so obviously lying? For whatever reason, she found herself not unbothered by the lies (because indeed, they did bother her) but rather… the lies did not close her off to him, as they ordinarily would have. And she could not precisely say _ why _that was. 

For whatever reason, each time he showed up at her cubicle, or summoned her to his office, or somehow showed up in her life, she found herself… Enthused? Upon their first meeting he had shown the slightest crack in the billionaire playboy veneer he wore for the world and what she had glimpsed beneath it had taken her breath away a bit. 

Beneath the lies, beneath the facade, she believed there was a good man. And it was that man that she found herself searching for in each interaction. It was _ that _Oliver that she found herself magnetically drawn towards. Every time he was in her proximity, she found herself resisting a powerful urge to be near him. The day he brought her an arrow, it took all her might not to brush her fingers against his. 

The day his finger tapped her shoulder, Felicity felt warmth trickle from her shoulder, spreading through her body until it reached from her toes to her nose. If this was her response to a tap on her (clothed) shoulder, what was she going to do if he ever shook her hand? 

“Collapse, probably,” she muttered to herself as she walked across the mostly empty QC parking garage after yet another late night in the IT Department. 

She hadn’t seen Oliver again since giving him the book of names Walter had shared with her. Ordinarily, sharing a secret with a guy and then not hearing from him would have worried her. But Oliver had proven rather erratic on the communication front, so it wasn’t exactly outside the norm for him to go a few days (or even a couple weeks) without sending her a message or dropping by unannounced. Even when he did message back, it was usually at odd hours. 

Oliver Queen was definitely an odd one. But for whatever reason, she trusted him and she had faith that he had not cut and run with the book, or forgotten about Walter, or her. She had faith _ in him. _And it was that faith which she was contemplating as she got into her waiting red mini cooper and started the engine, only for a groan to draw her attention and make her leap practically out of her skin.

“_ I’m not going to hurt you, Felicity!” _

Everything else happened so quickly she could hardly wrap her mind around it all; Oliver was the hooded vigilante the news had been going on about. He was injured and bleeding in her backseat. None of this truly rattled her or in any way shook Felicity but when he asked for her promise that she would take him to the factory, she felt her insides go to ice. 

He was injured. _ Badly. _He needed a hospital and if he didn’t get one, she shuddered to think what would happen. But he was making her promise that instead, she’d take him to a steel factory in the heart of the Glades where she knew, the odds of him getting the help that he needed were slim to none. 

“P-Promise,” she stammered back, her heart in her throat even as she said it. She had faith in him and she trusted him. She just hoped that her trust hadn’t been misplaced and that she hadn’t just consigned this man to death. 

To her surprise, there was another car at the factory when she pulled up in a screech of brakes and she took this as a sign that Oliver had someone helping him in his vigilante activity who could perhaps help him now, in his hour of need. As she raced around the side of the car though, something unexplainable happened. 

She had done a quick examination of his wounds and wanting to staunch the flow of blood coming from (was that… was it a _ bullet wound? _ Had he been _ shot?! _), she pressed her hand against the exposed flesh of his wound. The moment that her skin made contact with his though, Felicity felt the entire world fall away from her. 

She could feel her heartbeat in the tips of her fingers and pulsing in every part of the fabric of her being. And she could feel his heartbeat, matched with hers, could feel the fast thrumming of it beneath her fingertips. She felt warmth spread through her body, chasing away the cold and the fear and the uncertainty. And the pull; the unspeakably strange but undeniably powerful yearning and sense of connection intensified with that single touch. Deep within her bones, Felicity felt some invisible linkage uniting her and Oliver in an almost cosmic way.

It was as if her soul had jumped out from wherever it resided, deep within her, in recognition of his soul. She could not have explained why she got that impression or how, only that, indeed, that was how she felt. 

Gasping beneath the force of these realizations, Felicity staggered and the contact was broken, leaving her heart racing and her lungs out of breath. Swallowing thickly, she knew she didn’t have time to dwell on what had just transpired; whatever she had just experienced and felt, one thing was beyond certain now: 

Oliver meant more to her than she could yet know. And she had to do everything in her power to protect him. 

Her arms came to wrap around his bulk and she did her level best to pry him from the vehicle but she succeeded only in covering herself in his blood. After wrangling him for a few precious minutes, she hadn’t moved him so much as a foot closer to the factory. 

She needed help. And though the very notion of leaving him alone when she had just witnessed what felt like a profound connection between them made her nauseous, Felicity did it. Glancing backwards only once as she rushed into the factory, she tried not to panic at the sight of him, ghastly pale and still unconscious. 

He needed help. And she was going to get it for him. 

\-----

He remembered nothing after getting into Felicity’s car but one of the first things he saw upon awakening in the Foundry was Diggle and Felicity side by side and inwardly, Oliver felt shock and awe trying to break through his fatigue and disorientation.

She had listened to him. She had taken him here, to the Foundry. Felicity had fulfilled his request of her and made good on her promise. 

Somehow, he had almost expected she wouldn’t. What reason did she have to trust him? He’d done nothing but hurl one outrageous lie after the next at her. And still, she’d helped him when she had plenty of reason not to. He was happy not to be waking in a hospital, where police would undoubtedly come to question him about his bullet wound. But he was also puzzled. 

Why? 

As it turned out, he did not have long to ponder. As Felicity agreed to come on board the team in a temporary capacity, Oliver felt a stirring deep within his gut that grew as he summoned the courage to offer her his hand in a handshake. 

For a beat, she looked at his hand and seemed almost… _ nervous? _ Uncertain? But she seemed to steel herself and as her hand slipped into his in a tentative shake, Oliver nearly lurched. It was as though gravity somehow _ changed. _He felt almost disoriented; in the span of a heartbeat, his world came into sharper focus and the obvious focal point was the woman standing before him.

It was as if the moment her hand touched his, a missing piece fell into place, completing a puzzle he had never even known was here before him. 

His life, so in shambles and ever spiraling into newer levels of turmoil, had suddenly and wonderfully come into alignment; out of chaos, order was immediately born. Whatever his purpose was in this world, _ she _was at the heart of it. Call it destiny,call it fate, call it kismet; Oliver knew only that he was immediately drawn to her in a most powerful, life altering fashion and for an expressed purpose, albeit one he did not yet know or understand. 

He knew deep in his bones that this woman, this ‘Felicity’ (so aptly named) was going to change his life forever. He could not have put the feeling into words. But in truth, Oliver knew that this was the day that he would look back on and pinpoint as the day that his life changed - forever. 

He had been a man lost at sea and she was, unwittingly, his life preserver. Deep within the darkness in which he had been drowning, suddenly there was light.

“Thank you,” he whispered to her a scant half a heartbeat later, maintaining the facade of composure despite the explosion of emotion her touch had initiated. 

“Yeah,” she murmured back with a hesitant smile as she held the handshake for a moment more. When the handshake ended she drew her hand back behind her head, seeming equally unsettled as she walked away, pulling her arm back against her body in a manner that indicated she too had felt something and didn’t know what to make of it.

Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on his part. 

His eyes followed her as she made her way to the stairs and his focus was still decidedly on her even as Diggle began to speak to him, questioning the wisdom of bringing Felicity into the fold. Almost instinctively, Oliver’s mind leapt to the solution that both kept her near him and kept her safe.

“We can protect her.” 

The pull he felt drawing him to her was so desperately powerful. His hands were trembling with the after effects of their shared handshake and simply letting her out of his sight already felt like a sacrifice. Having her on the team - even if only for a short while - was something he could not be talked out of. _ They could protect her. _He was a hooded harbinger of vengeance and justice. Whatever this city and its foul underbelly decided to throw his way, he would face it and overcome it if it meant keeping her safe. 

Something told him that protecting people - but especially _ her _\- was his purpose for being. 

_ Get a grip, _ he told himself. _ You just met her. _

But this didn’t feel like a first meeting. Something deep down screamed that there was an intimate familiarity between them. He didn’t understand it, _ couldn’t _understand it. He could struggle to make sense of the storm of sensations that had swept over him at her touch, and wonder at what it all could mean.

\-----

Felicity had known hardship in her life - being abandoned by her father, being raised by a struggling single mother, losing Cooper in college. None of those had been easy. Loving Oliver… loving him had been the easiest thing in her life thus far. But it had also brought hardships.

The shooting Darhk had orchestrated, which had left her paralyzed. Oliver’s lack of transparency about William, which had precipitated their breakup. Watching him move on with Susan. Watching him suffer at the hands of Adrian Chase and Ricardo Diaz and every other cruel soul that had crossed their paths. Losing him to prison less than a year after marrying him. One hardship had always preceded another, each new blow bringing newfound heartache.

But nothing they had ever experienced measured up with this.

This was the rug being pulled out from under her. This was not knowing which way was up or down. This was having the light of her life ripped away from her. This was being blindsided. This was agony and this was grief_. _

This was an otherworldly being standing in their little cabin getaway, saying that he was taking her husband away with him _ tonight. _ This was that very same being, saying that her husband would _ die _in order to save the universe - herself and Mia included.

This was loss. Inexorable loss, if ‘The Monitor’ was to be believed. But Felicity refused to accept the idea that these were truly her final moments with Oliver. She refused to believe that after all that they had seen and come through, this was how their story was meant to end. 

They had just barely gotten started. Their daughter had not yet celebrated her first birthday; they hadn’t even had the time to work at chipping away at Will’s anger to open the door to talks of him coming to live with them again. Their family was still not yet made whole and now… Now her husband was to be wrenched away from her, from their daughter, and from their son, without preamble or time for proper goodbyes? 

_ No. _

She would not accept it. Could not. Felicity’s definition of ‘unthinkable’ had grown and changed in the years since she had first met Oliver and joined his crusade. Since that first day he had come to her cubicle, her world had grown. And since that fateful day she had first touched him and felt her entire world come to center on him, Felicity had somehow grown to love Oliver even more deeply, with all her heart and all her soul. ‘Unthinkable’ was no longer the idea of the two of them together; now, ‘unthinkable’ was the very notion of spending the rest of her life without him. 

He was, beyond a shadow of doubt, the other half of her heart. He was her lover, her heart’s desire, her true love, the father of her children and the man whose arms were home. 

Oliver was her soulmate. Life without the soul that fanned hers into life? _ That _was unthinkable. 

_ “I need you to make me a promise,” _he murmured and Felicity nodded faintly as she touched at her face as though to wipe away the tears. As if that would help. As if she could stop crying when she was about to lose the great love of her life. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“No matter what happens to me - _ no matter what _ \- you need to do everything in your power you… You need to keep William and Mia safe.” 

This was his last request of her. That she protect their children. It was something he need not have asked of her - she would have done it anyway. But if it brought him some measure of peace, no matter how small, then she would swear it for him. 

“I will keep them safe,” she affirmed for him, trying to infuse her voice with a strength that she herself did not feel. “But wherever you go… whatever happens to you… you’ll never leave me.”

And for a moment she could lose herself in her staunch declarations of love, in her sweeping reminders that their love was bigger than the frigging universe he was leaving to defend. She could almost pretend that his impassioned speech about how she had opened up his heart was being said, not in sorrowful parting, but in loving recognition. 

_ Almost. _

“Would you tell Mia that I love her every day?” The desperation and pleading in his voice almost did her in and she could only bring herself to nod in response because words would have failed her. “And I know that she will grow up to be as smart and as beautiful as her mom.”

“I will find you… again. I promise. But you… You have to promise me that no matter what happens… You will _ keep fighting, _” she whispered to him in determination and he shuttered his eyes to her, his expression wracked with emotion.

“Felicity, you heard the Monitor,” he began but she could only shake her head in vehement denial. 

“I don’t accept it, Oliver. In a universe with metahumans and time travel a-and _ magic, _I don’t accept that the only way this ends is in your death. I don’t accept it. And I won’t.” 

If Barry could zigzag through time, altering events, and Sara and her band could flit in and out of history, then the universe could damn well bend the laws of time and space to ensure that come hell or high water or the Monitor and his mission, Oliver made it back to his family alive. And if the universe tried to prevent Oliver coming back to them? Then the universe would have to go through her. 

“Promise me that you will not give up fighting. Promise me that no matter what - _ no matter what _\- you will never give up hope and you will keep fighting to come back to us,” she barreled on. And for a moment, it was four years prior and she was giving him a similar speech.

_ Don’t fight to die. Fight to live. _

She needed him to fight not just FOR them but to come back TO them. “Promise me you will keep fighting until I can find you… Again.” 

He hung his head and she watched a tear trace down his nose and waver for a moment before it fell, while Oliver sniffled and nodded minutely. 

“I promise,” Oliver sighed at last, his tears stilling in the face of her certainty and her conviction. “I love you,” he murmured to her tenderly.

It was this last that broke her. 

“I love you so much,” she breathed, the tears washing over her anew even as he brought his face to hers and kissed her. His hands cupped her face and she did likewise with his, holding onto him and clinging fast as the kiss broke and they embraced lovingly. 

This was the last time she would kiss him, the last time she would hold him in her arms for who knew how long. The Monitor wanted her to believe this was her final goodbye and she knew some part of Oliver believed him - or had, until Felicity’s steadfast refusal. But she could not allow herself to think thusly. If she did, how could she ever let the kiss end, or the hug that followed it, knowing that truly, this was the last time? 

No. This was only a temporary goodbye. Not a permanent one. 

But even as he drew away from her, touching her face poignantly, she knew that this goodbye heralded a separation that, however long or brief, would be perhaps the most agonizing thing they had yet suffered. And as his hand slipped from hers for the last time, Felicity felt the first, intense wave of utter anguish and the yawning isolation that his absence left in its wake. 

Oliver was gone. 

\-----

_ Twenty years later… _

\-----

As Felicity looked at each of her children in turn as they stood before Oliver’s gravestone, she felt her heart swell; Oliver would have been truly proud of both of their children. Whether or not he would have been proud of _ her _though? She wasn’t quite certain. 

Felicity had done the best that she could, all things considered. 

She had continued to raise Mia in the seclusion of the Bloomfield cabin, away from the dangers that the outside world - and the ever looming Ninth Circle - represented. She’d seen to it that their daughter was well trained (by Nyssa, no less) and that she was as prepared as Felicity could make her for the life she might be called upon to lead. 

Felicity had never forgotten the Monitor’s words about Mia. _ Trust me, the world needs her. _

The world could not have her daughter; the world had already taken her husband. The Smoak-Queen family had sacrificed enough. But even still, Felicity had wanted to be sure that Mia was ready for anything and everything the universe might try to throw at her. So she had ensured she had a proper education, befitting the daughter of The Green Arrow. 

And though she’d tried to reach out to William, his grandparents had steadfastly refused to allow any communication between the two to take place. It would have been easy enough to bypass William’s security protocols (although not _ that _easy - her son was a regular tech wiz and growing more and more formidable with every passing day) and get word to him directly. But as a mother herself, Felicity had done her level best to respect his grandparents’ wishes and had refrained from contacting him.

Felicity couldn’t entirely blame them; allowing William to interface with his ‘in hiding’ stepmother was probably not an attractive option for the people that had already lost a daughter and were understandably fearful of losing their grandson too. And it had been hard to fight them on the issue given that William’s one wish had been for a normal life - which was the furthest thing from what Felicity had to offer him.

So she’d watched from afar, keeping a close eye on him as he grew, all the while desperately wishing she could have her son back in her life. But she had promised Oliver to do whatever it took to keep their children safe. And so even though it pained her to be separated from her son, Felicity had kept her distance.

As long as the Ninth Circle was still looking for them, she had posed a danger to William. And for that reason alone, she could not and had not been a presence in his life. She had promised Oliver. Her heartbreak was a small price to pay in exchange for protecting her children. 

But this, now? Seeing the two of them, beautiful and strong and smart and grown and _ together? _It made her heart soar in ways she had thought were no longer possible. 

_ We did it Oliver. They’re safe. _

And she would ensure they stayed that way; she had already orchestrated all of it. Her disappearance would allow her to perfectly take the fall for the events that had led to the destruction of the wall around the Glades. Their children would be safe from the enemies within the city looking to exact vengeance. 

Their children did not need her any longer. They were ready - they had proven as much over the course of these last weeks. Which meant that she had fulfilled her promise to Oliver; their children were safe at last and she? She was ready to go to him. 

The Monitor had answered her summons, just as she had bargained for him to do when she had helped him amidst the Crisis. And though he had warned her that there was no returning from the place where she was going, Felicity did not hesitate. 

She was going to where he was. As long as he was there, she had no reason to leave. Their children were safe and grown. The best thing she could do now was to go and see to it that their father was safe as well. She had waited a long, _ long _time to see him again.

It was time. 

Passing through the portal was like walking through a concentrated, warm breeze. One moment she was in Star City and the next, she was in a vast, unfamiliar space that spread out before her into eternity. Stars twinkled and winked all around her but not even her inner space nerd could be bothered with the sight of the cosmos at her fingertips. 

Because not twenty feet away from her was a figure so familiar and so longed for that simply the sight of it sent a shiver tracing down her spine. 

_ Oliver. _

Felicity walked towards him as if in a trance, unable to fathom that he was truly before her. After all this time. She’d never given up her fight for him, though her spirit had been broken time and again, when crushing failure followed crushing failure. She’d screamed and wept more times than she could count. But after each defeat she’d risen again, ever determined to bring him back to her. 

And now she had done it. She had fulfilled the one thing he had asked of her and she was here, mere feet from him. The distance between them closed as she tiptoed nearer to him shyly, as if afraid he might spook and disappear if she approached too quickly. He stood facing away from her, his broad, well muscled back to her as she stole closer, noiselessly. 

Her hand trembled as she lifted it to tap his shoulder, fully expecting her fingertips to meet with nothing but thin air. This wasn’t real. She was dreaming this, as she’d done countless times before. Her hand never made contact when she reached for him in her dreams. But when the pads of her fingers lit on a flesh and bone man, she nearly wept with joy. 

“O-Oliver?!” 

He spun to face her and when she saw his face she could almost have died a happy woman. Oliver looked the exact same and yet he was completely different. Salt peppered his hair and beard and new lines had found their way upon his face. He bore a scar beneath his eye that he hadn’t had before but beneath it all, it was still _ him. _ And the love dancing in his eyes was the exact same as she remembered it. And the warmth of his embrace as he threw his arms around her in disbelief? That too was unchanged. 

“Felicity?!” 

He gasped her name against her ear and she trembled violently at the sound of it. God, she had missed his voice, his touch, his face. Burying her head against his chest, she gave herself over to tears as she clung to him with a desperate, powerful grip. 

“You’re really here,” she gasped. “You’re real. You’re alive and you’re here. This isn’t a dream?!” Felicity was quite certain that she would not be able to survive the heartbreak if this proved false; this had to be real. Loosening her grip on him just a smidge, she pushed up her shirtsleeve and pinched the flesh beneath, letting out a quiet yip of pain.

She wasn’t dreaming. This was real. He was really, truly, here. 

“It’s me. I’m here,” he nodded as his hand gently lifted her chin so her eyes could meet his. He studied her with utter awe and wonder; it was obvious he was as cautiously delighted as she was. But even as he stared at her, she could see the emotion welling up within him. “I knew you’d find me,” he choked out, his voice breaking on the ‘you’. “I never gave up fighting to come back to you. And I never stopped believing you would find me.”

“Even after all this time…?” 

“I never doubted you,” Oliver swore stoically and Felicity felt her throat closing up with emotion. Even with everything he had been through - and she could only imagine as to what all that had been - Oliver had held out hope, his love and his faith in her never wavering. After so many years apart, they were actually here. Together. 

“William and Mia…?” He trailed off with uncertainty and she nodded smilingly up at him. 

“They’re fine. I kept them safe, just like you asked me to. They’re together now.” She saw unshed tears dancing within his familiar stormy blue eyes and all she wanted was to kiss him.

So she did. 

She rose onto the tips of her toes as her hands held him by his shirtfront and her lips found his for a fierce, demanding kiss. Felicity had not waited twenty years to find him just to hold him chastely. But as he kissed her dizzy, something happened that neither of them had planned on. 

A thousand fragmented images, broken and muddled at first but slowly, stitching together to paint a clearer picture, crammed their way into her mind. Oliver in a tophat and breeches. A quaint brick townhome. Corsets and carriages and sailing ships in a crowded harbor. Even as they kissed in the present, the past all came into sharper focus. Memories like dusty relics were suddenly brought to the forefront, dusted off and polished as they were remembered. 

Acres of rolling green hills and livestock on a lavish plot of land that had been their own. Union blues and muskets and two silhouettes on horseback riding for home. Whispered conversations on a porch at night. A tearful goodbye. A stack of letters tied with twine. Inkblots on a tear stained letter. A tiny tintype image of a beloved soldier, lost too soon. A pair of blonde children running through the fields, so like their parents. A failed engagement and an unfulfilled last wish. 

They broke apart with a gasp and Felicity looked at him in confusion, her head spinning. Everything… everything she’d seen was so _ familiar _ but none of it was anything she’d seen in all her life. How was it that these images felt like _ memories_?! But while she was lost in making sense of it, Oliver seemed like a man possessed as he looked at her with newfound wonderment.

“Oliver, what-” Felicity began but before she could get another word out he closed the distance between them and his lips found hers with a feverish, almost hungry desperation. 

And the barrage of jumbled images and flashes continued. A ship steaming across the Atlantic. A dark night sky lit up with stars. A smoky, crowded room and a lively game of blackjack. Secret nuptials. A dance upon an empty ship’s deck. The tender joining of two as one. A flimsy lifejacket and precious few lifeboats sitting upon the surface of a dark, quiet ocean. His eyes, boring into hers and his hands holding her close as the water swallowed them. And the cold. The profound, miserable cold before the dark. 

A tropical paradise. A crowded bar and a conversation during a shared dance. Beaches and laughter and a ring box at sunset. A crisp white nurse’s outfit and a starched Navy uniform. The salty spray of the ocean waves and the sand between her bare toes. A terrible plume of smoke. A car ride plagued with terror. A teary goodbye. And blood, _ so much blood_. Planes roaring above her head and a tidal wave of human suffering. The joy of seeing him whole and hale and the bright explosion of pain when the bullet ripped through her. 

And finally, images that she recognized joined the fray.

A red pen and a bullet riddled laptop. An impassioned speech inside a clocktower. A clever deception of an enemy shedding light on unspoken feelings. A date cut short by an explosion. Candles in the room in Nanda Parbat, casting a golden glow over everything as they made love for the first time. Mornings making breakfast and tumbling into bed together in Ivy Town. The proposal after the Holiday Tree lighting ceremony. Angry words and hurtful secrets. The breakup. The EMP that had trapped them in the bunker and her fear at nearly losing him again. Days spent tutoring and playing video games and baking with William as Oliver watched on, smiling. Their impromptu wedding and the celebration with friends and family that had followed thereafter. Losing him to prison and fighting like hell to get him back. Their joyous reunion. William moving to live with his grandparents. Finding out she was pregnant with Mia. Moving to the cabin in Bloomfield. 

Losing him to the Monitor and his fight to save the multiverse from the coming Crisis. 

Everything came rushing back to them. _ Everything_. Every joyous moment and every devastating loss. And as they held each other, her eyes met his and she wept and laughed all at once. Because it was him. It was Oliver, the same Oliver she had loved and found in every life. The Oliver she had married time and again. The very Oliver she had been ripped from or had ripped from her in each and every life, up to now. 

The same Oliver who she loved with her body and soul, heart and mind. Her Oliver. _ Her soulmate_, something deep within her whispered and Felicity’s skin prickled into goosebumps. She had always known she loved Oliver deeply and that they were bonded in a most profound way. But never had Felicity guessed that they were written in the stars. They were the truest embodiment of ‘soulmates’. 

Across many lives in many times, they had always found and loved each other, no matter how daunting the odds that were stacked against them. She could see it all clearly now, with the knowledge of their past lives. 

“It’s really you,” Felicity whimpered and he nodded through his tears, flashing her a dazzling smile as he held her face in his hands. 

“It’s me, Felicity. It’s me.” 

“You dummy, why did you get off the lifeboat? You would have survived if you had just stayed on it!” For good measure, she smacked his chest halfheartedly and in return he could only smile all the wider at her rage.

“And live life without you? That’s not living. It’s Hell. I lived through it when you got sick after you had Mia the first time, and again at Pearl Harbor. And this time… all these years without you? Never again,” he choked out before he pressed another kiss to her lips and she melted against him, the collective yearning of all her past selves far too strong to ignore. She’d lived so many lifetimes loving and losing him. She wasn’t about to let him go now that she had him at last. 

“W-When you died on the battlefield at Gettysburg?”

“My last thoughts were of you,” he confessed and her eyes slammed shut to stave off further tears. 

“You were always the last thing I saw,” she admitted softly, swallowing thickly as she reopened her eyes to find his attentive gaze trained on her lovingly. “When I died after having Mia? And again on the Titanic? A-And at Pearl Harbor? Every time y-you… You were always the last thing I saw.” 

They clung to each other tightly, an embrace that Felicity would have been satisfied to let last for the rest of time. Eventually though, they broke apart enough to look each other in the eyes, joy and wonder dancing in both their gazes. 

“I always tried to do what you asked me to… But I couldn’t always do it,” Felicity explained apologetically, quivering in his arms as he held her to him. “I-I’m so sorry… I couldn’t remarry after you died at Gettysburg. I know you wanted me to b-but I just… I couldn’t.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry. You asked me to let you go and I wouldn’t. I couldn’t or wouldn’t accept the truth and you suffered because of it. Because of me and my choices. I regret that, so very much Felicity.” 

“No regrets,” she whispered hoarsely, brushing a tear away from his face. “You asked me to stay in the hospital at Pearl Harbor and I couldn’t do that either. I didn’t mean not to listen I just… I had to help. And it cost us both.” 

“And if I had listened to you and gotten on a lifeboat, you would have been able to get on one for yourself on the Titanic. We both made choices, Felicity. And we always made those choices from a place of love.” 

She nodded at this, leaning her face into his palm as he cupped her face in his hands. 

“I love you so much, Oliver,” Felicity murmured and he inclined his head to hers until their foreheads touched and he nuzzled her nose softly. 

“More than a thousand universes?” he asked, his lips curving into a playful smile and she stilled in his arms, her eyes trained on his.

“You heard about that?” 

“About my wife, who located the Tome of the Guardians, chastising the Monitor over my death, yelling ‘fuck you’ at him, and saying that I mattered more to her than a thousand universes? ...Yes. The others might have let that one slip.” 

Felicity’s nose crinkled in equal parts delight and embarrassment and she ducked her head at his words. 

“I told you once that I loved you more than a human being should love another human being,” she reminded him softly and he nodded, sobering. 

“And I told you once that one thing that would not change was how I felt about you. I told you love was too small a word. And that no matter who you were or what you became or who I was or what I became, that you would always be the love of my life.” 

He paused, his hands collecting both of hers in his as he sighed, staring intently at their hands until he spoke up once again.

“Every lifetime, I have loved you. And you have loved me. And every lifetime, we have loved and lost each other… I don’t want to lose you again.” 

“You won’t,” Felicity assured him tenderly, giving both of his hands a firm squeeze. “No matter where you go, I always find you. No matter what, no matter when… When I came to you the Monitor… He told me there was no returning from the place he was taking me. I thought he meant this-” she gestured at their surroundings, “-but now I understand. He meant… Once I found you here, there would be no going back. Because now us - our souls? We are bound together. Forever. Nothing and no one can rip us apart now.” 

Her hand cradled his face just as she had the night he had left to fight the Crisis and she smiled up at him with the full measure of her devotion.

“You are mine and I am yours now. Forever. _ That _is what cannot be undone. That is what we cannot return from. You are my forever, Oliver.” 

“Promise me,” his voice was less than a whisper, as though he were afraid to believe something so _ good _and so richly deserved could be true after all they had endured. Felicity’s smile grew wider and happy tears slid down her cheeks as she stood onto her tiptoes, pressing a passionate kiss on his lips before she answered him in breathless delight.

“I promise. Now, come on… Our kids are waiting for us.” 

\-----

The starcrossed souls of Felicity Smoak and Oliver Queen were permanently entangled with each other from the moment of their creation. Through their unfulfilled last requests to one another from one life to the next, they were doomed to cycles of love and loss. But when they fulfilled their final requests at long last, that cycle was permanently broken. Their souls were freed from the series of loss and pain, freed to dwell together for all eternity. They would endure no further heartbreak and no further premature losses. In fact, they would never be reborn again unless they both chose to be - and if they were reborn, they would be blessed;their time together would be long and their lives together, joyful. They were, forevermore, united as one; whatever their souls chose to do, they would do together and happiness would forever follow them.

Their souls had fought across the cosmos for one another. And they had won. 

Now, the souls whose fates were tied to the fates of Oliver and Felicity were free to pursue their own happy endings. For even in leaving their children and bequeathing them the task of protecting Star City, Felicity had passed the proverbial torch to her daughter and son.

Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak’s souls had found their permanent happiness together. It was now time for the souls of their children to do the same.


End file.
